


Love and Horror Are in My Blood

by crazyparakiss



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Infidelity, M/M, Mpreg, Stillbirth, loki has a vagina, sex with a centaur (bestiality)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 17:09:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5172386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyparakiss/pseuds/crazyparakiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beneath the calm waters of the sea was a torrent of violence; Thor would spend centuries coming to the realization of that truth. He would spend longer yet learning that Loki always wore a serene facade covering a maelstrom of chaos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Horror Are in My Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Detailed warnings as follows: 
> 
> Mpreg, infidelity, pseudo-incest (not technically related), Loki has a vagina, Loki has sex with a centaur so bestiality (?), stillbirth, multiple pregnancies, Not all of the kids are Thor’s, Brief mention of sibling incest that is not shown or related to any main character, Brief mention of medieval era typical violence/acceptance of rape in war (none of it is visual nor happens on screen), Medieval era typical levels of misogyny and things that could be viewed as anti-feminist if this offends anyone I apologize and want you to know those aren’t my personal views, violence, unreliable narrators, multiple POVs, skewed canon, skewed mythology canon, Not Fluffy, Angst, Loki isn’t a good person (but I still love him), Thor has sex with Loki a lot while Loki is glamored as a woman--it’s a power-play type thing. 
> 
> Asgardian years equate 100 years in my mind. 
> 
> MEGA Thanks to my artists who went ABOVE and BEYOND to make some rad art for this monstrosity! 
> 
> stormbrite's art is http://archiveofourown.org/works/5111432
> 
> And as soon as I get the link to the one from emc14 it will go here :) 
> 
> SUPER MEGA LOVE TO MY BETA, CURI! She's a gem I don't deserve! Any remaining mistakes/discrepancies are my own.

 

[Don't forget to leave strombrite some love](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5111432)

 

 

 

 

“Love and Horror Are in My Blood”

 

 

With a weary sigh Odin--All Father, King of Asgard, Protector of The Nine Realms--strolled through Frigga’s hall, into her private gardens. In all of Asgard this was the only place Odin found that he could feel alone and at peace. His wife, with all her lovely tricks and gentle magic, had created a haven of tranquility in a realm full of warriors. 

 

It was here, amongst her lush fields, ripe with her cultivated flowers, that he stumbled upon his youngest son. A youth of only sixteen hundred, still very new to the world by Asgardian standards--a babe, a boy really--and yet here he was, on his knees, as the centaur Svadilfari mounted him from behind. Loki’s mouth was stretched wide, around a silent scream, and Odin stood still, in shock, as he heard Svadilfari grunt before stilling behind Odin’s son. 

 

The very son Odin’s father, Bor, the previous Asgardian king, foresaw in death. His dying breath Odin could still recall, millennia ago when he took it, for it was a sharp, painful sound Odin had never before heard come from his father. And with a high almost scream, his words filled the cavernous hall, “You will kill a king, my son, and take an innocent from his father, and also his mother--my final order, as your father and king, is to take this child. For you to show love to him--if you don’t, my son, he will bring your end. He will be the end of us all.” 

 

Now, as Odin took in the scene before him, he thought upon that night, all those years ago--back when Odin himself had been but a youth--and he wondered if this was the beginning of the end Bor foretold. Odin turned away from the scene when Loki hissed, “Harder,” and gripped at the dark hair of the creature behind him. He would find no serenity here, and decided to seek the solitude of his chambers. 

 

***

 

 

Two moons later, when Loki had fallen to a woman’s illness, Odin sat in the healing rooms with a trusted healer from his court. He rested his one good eye over Loki. “What have you brought upon yourself, Loki,” Odin demanded when the quiet grew thick with tension. 

 

“I did as he asked, Father. He said he would slow the work of his master if I allowed him to bed me.” Loki’s eyes were wide, green as the glass that washed in with the tide of their oceans, and his lip trembled. Odin sighed, softening his heart to this child in ways he never softened it to his own blood. 

 

“You are a Prince of Asgard, and you bring shame to my house with these deeds.” The way Loki crumpled inward, curled like a newborn, had Odin’s fury leaving as quickly as it had come. “We will speak of this to no one,” here he gave the healer, Lady Sigyn, a pointed look and she was wise to what it meant when she inclined her head. “You will be away on a journey until the child is born, and when the time comes we will deal with this then.” 

 

“Yes, Father," Loki whispered, eyes bright as they gazed upon the floor. 

 

“And as for that centaur, I will see to his punishment myself.” Odin rubbed a war-roughened hand over his coarse beard. “Your actions might send me to war, Loki. Next time, I ask that you be more careful with whom you lie.” 

 

“I only meant to spare Lady Freya from the amorous intentions of his beastly master.” Even softer he added, “Despite her dislike of me, even the queen of the Valkyries doesn’t deserve that sort of punishment.” 

 

“That was not your place to decide,” Odin bellowed, his rage inflamed once more. “This is why I am king, All Father of the Nine Realms, and my words, my decisions, Loki, are law! They are final, and no boy--still green in youth--will usurp my law!” 

 

When Loki shuffled from the room Odin turned to Sigyn, his face harsh with her rather than the weary anger he had shown his son. “You will be with him, Lady Sigyn, and you will call me when the child is to be born.” She nodded, her dark eyes cast down in submission, and he added, “You will tell no one of what has happened, not my queen and not the wind. You will guard this secret as if it were Asgard herself, and should you fail the punishment will be to live the rest of your days in torment. Do you so swear to honor my requests?”   


“I swear it, my king.”

 

“Good, now run along--pack your things--I expect you both to leave for the northern mountains by nightfall.” Odin cast a glance at the door to make sure the guards had not heard a word of what was spoken, and with a final nod at Sigyn he moved imperiously from the room. 

 

Before dinner Loki and Sigyn were gone, with a set of horses and a cart to carry what they would require. Winter was harsh in the north, but Odin knew well Loki could easily survive in such cold. 

 

 

***

 

 

Frigga was not blind to the absence of Loki. She openly mourned him, and demanded Odin return him unto her when he informed her Loki was being sent away for a short while, as punishment. 

 

“By the fury of the ancients I will have him restored to me or you shall suffer a cold year without my warmth.” There had been many cold years through the centuries, and Odin never enjoyed them.

 

His queen was his light, the very reason he drew breath in the mornings, but Odin had not always done right by her. He had many indiscretions, during lengthy wars that required the ease of a woman to get him through the night, and some had led to bastards. Bastards he flaunted in the halls, children Frigga looked upon with equal amounts of sorrow, pain, and love. For only his illustrious queen could love the proof of his infidelity. Vidarr and Vali his half giant sons, from an affair with the giantess Rindr, sat in their dining hall at dinner, their mother a presence in the court. She was brought to Asgard by Frigga when the Asgardian queen learned of his affair with the Ruthenian princess, an affair he’d won after he slaughtered her father. For Rindr was the spoils of war. He spent three cold years without Frigga’s touch. She spent that time befriending the woman Odin ruined with his seed, and he remembered the icy anger in Frigga’s eyes any time he tried to approach his wife. Had dissolution of their marriage been an option in Asgard, as it had been for the people who worshiped them, Odin was certain she would’ve left him the moment Frigga knew of his treachery. That had been millennia before, and yet Odin felt the chill of that stare as if it were upon him now. 

 

However, Odin did not yield, “He will return in time, love.” She jerked away from his hand when he reached to smooth it over her shoulder, and Odin cast his eye down. 

 

“Until he returns, Borson, you shall not touch your wife.” Odin swallowed at the rage that radiated off of her beautiful form. She had not called him Borson since before they wed. “I shall take my leave of you now, All Father, for my head aches and I tire of this noise.” She did not linger to see if he permitted her to go, and Odin looked to Rindr now. She sat with a group of women, much like herself, raped in war--bastards put upon them--ruined in the eyes of the court, but tolerated because of Frigga’s endless kindnesses. None dared whisper their true thoughts before their queen, but still the women were rarely approached for courting, and rarer still married. Most became spinsters, eternal maids, wet nurses, governesses, and some, like Rindr, ladies of the queen. At Rindr’s table, now, he saw Loki’s future and a painful vice rose up within him at the thought of Loki being ousted by the foolishness of youth, or by the harsh shove of a centaur who had no right to Loki’s flower. 

 

“I would have the centaur, Svadilfari, brought before me,” Odin bellowed, stilling the chatter in his dining hall, “I would have him now!” Odin wanted to release his boiling rage upon something and this creature seemed a good place to dispel his hate. 

 

Thor, seated with the Lady Sif and his warriors, looked far too excited by the idea of his father’s ire, and Odin frowned in his direction until his foolish son dropped his smile. Though Thor’s excitement did not dwindle, and his eyes were still over bright. 

 

“All Father,” the curious eyes of his subjects watched as the centaur galloped into the hall; hooves clopping loudly against the polished marble. Svadilfari’s dark eyes sparkling beneath the torches while his glossy black coat gleamed, and Odin had never hated a creature as much as this one when he looked upon him. He could see, then, that Svadilfari knew what he had done. His back held straight as he stopped before Odin, _proud_ of his actions. “My master and I were just coming to find you. The wall, requested by your eminence, is now complete. My master is quite disappointed with the delay, but I injured myself chasing a rare creature two moons back.” His words were an open mockery; a mockery that Odin alone understood. 

 

Odin’s voice was ominous when he spoke, silencing the smug fool before him, “You stand before your king and gloat of your treachery, beast.  You harmed, and for your sin I shall spill your blood in retribution.” He didn’t care to list the creature’s crimes; Odin was a king and owed no one fairness. 

 

To his surprise Svadilfari knelt, a smirk still upon his lips, “It begged sweetly, All Father, so eager and wanton. I go gladly with Death, knowing I sampled it first.” Seconds later Svadilfari was but a blot of carnage on the floors. His blood and meat not nearly as satisfying as Odin desired. 

 

With a jerk of his head he signaled the guards, “Clean it off my floor, and if his master comes to seek retribution see to it that he meets the same fate.” 

 

***

 

Thor followed Odin from dinner, his steps loud in the cavernous halls, “Father!” His voice was a boom of sound that grated upon Odin’s nerves. Any other time he loved his son, immensely, and enjoyed his company far more than any other--but tonight he was heavy with the guilt of his wife’s angry gaze and the inability to keep control of Loki. As such Odin wanted no company. He wanted to be left to his thoughts; perhaps in the wild of Asgard with nothing but the silence to comfort him.  However, as a king he could no longer run to the woods, as he had in youth, to escape the burdens of his crown. No, he had to remain here, in the stifling walls of Asgard, where he was required to put his personal issues aside and focus on his duties. 

 

“Thor,” he turned, weary. “Have you need of my counsel?” 

 

Thor, a spoiled youth of eighteen hundred, frowned at the dismissive tone. “You do not look pleased to see me, Father.” 

 

“It is not you who displeases me, Odinson, it is the company of another that wearies me so.” 

 

Confusion was the usual expression Thor wore; Odin did not believe his son to be stupid, but he was slow in matters of the mind. For Thor there were three states: happiness, rage, and passion. None required much in the way of intelligence, and not for the first time Odin worried about the legacy he would hand to this boy. His sleep would come when Thor was still in youth, and Asgard would be at the mercy of Thor’s inexperience. Not for the first time he mourned the death of Baldr. His eldest son would’ve gleamed as a leader; all of Asgard still mourned their fallen prince with his golden hair and golden heart. Not that Thor was unloved. Asgard had taken to him, and his infectious charm, not long after Baldr’s death. He’d been but a babe, and suddenly the burden of the crown loomed upon him. Frigga had been stolen two children that day; her beloved Baldr to Death and her sweet babe, Thor, to be trained in his father’s shadow. It was her loss that made her love Loki more than she loved her own. Odin had watched his heart, Frigga, as she gazed upon the runt of a Jotunn. Her blue eyes sparkled as they had when he told her he would love her for always, as they had when she first saw Baldr, as they had when she first put Thor to her breast, and Odin knew, then, that Loki would receive the love Bor had told Odin to give the orphaned child. 

 

“Why is Mother angry with you?” Thor’s question broke through Odin’s reverie, and he clenched his staff as he looked out across the gleaming cities of his realm. 

 

“A woman’s heart, Thor, is like an ocean--deeper than one can imagine, full of torrents no sailor could ever hope to conquer, and yet, still, men brave her dark waters.” His own father had once spoke to him of the treacherous seas known as love, and Odin found it ironic that the speeches he’d ignored and mocked in youth would one day be his own. Now, for Thor, he reiterated Bor’s words. 

 

“What does that have to do with Mother being angry with you?” Thor asked, and Odin let out a soft chortle. He’d once asked his own father those exact same words. 

 

“Everything and nothing, Odinson. I will take my leave of you now, for I am tired.” Before he turned to go he paused, calling out to his son, “Thor.” 

 

“Father?” Odin swallowed when he gazed at him then; eyes a clear glittering blue and his hair a long fall of shining gold--he looked so like Baldr. It was as if a ghost had come to haunt him this evening, and Odin felt his chest clench from the loss. 

 

“Know that today, and many other days, your father has been bested by the ocean.” With a faint smile Odin shook his head fondly, “It is the only battle I gladly surrender within.” 

 

His peace spoken, Odin left Thor to his confusion, and made his way to the chambers he used when Frigga’s ire was riled. 

 

 

***

 

 

Loki frowned as he stared around the small cabin Odin banished him to. For four moons he’d lived in this hovel, with its two small rooms and cramped kitchen. The snow was so thick out he daren’t leave the warmth Lady Sigyn kept burning in the hearths. Boredom wasn’t worth catching his death over; only Thor would be stupid enough to brave the icy winds for a hunt. Thor and perhaps his merry band of idiots. 

 

At the fire Lady Sigyn filled a large cauldron with chunks of boar, blood, snow, and what little spice she’d brought from Asgard. “A stew will do the little one good,” she said when she saw the disgusted look Loki threw in the direction of dinner. Another bland stew was the last thing Loki wanted. He missed the sweet wines of court, the piping hot breads, and the lush fruits from Mother’s gardens.

 

“The little beast protests when you feed him such slop,” Loki all but hissed in reply. Shifting beneath the black fur pelt, the very fur Thor gifted him after one of many hunts Loki declined to join. He’d flung a dagger at Fandral for the jesting comment about Loki being Thor’s maiden. Grudgingly he’d taken the fur, and would never tell his oafish brother that of all his pelts this one was Loki’s favorite. He smoothed his hand over it now, covering his chilled body, and Loki’s hand accidentally brushed the hard mound of his stomach; causing him to flinch. Sigyn had observed his behavior with obvious distain. Often she tried to get him to feel his growing child, or she’d try to have him talk to the curve of distended flesh. Loki adamantly refused. This was no child he’d relish. When she looked ready to try and force more love out of him, Loki decided to distract Sigyn with questions, “Why has Thor never birthed a bastard?” 

 

Her dark eyes snapped to Loki’s face, startled, “Pardon, my prince?” 

 

“Thor often lies with others, his affairs are the sources of great gossip, and yet Father has never hidden him in the mountains to bring a bastard into being.” 

 

It was a long while before Sigyn found her voice, and by then Loki was picking at his nails due to boredom. “Thor has only lain with women, my prince.” 

 

His face felt vulnerable, in a way, when he said, “Oh, I see.” 

 

Lady Sigyn hurried to change the topic after that. “Would you like to play a game of chess, my prince?” 

 

He didn’t want to, they both knew, but Loki nodded his head in acceptance regardless. 

 

 

***

 

 

When the child came the mountains trembled with Loki’s screams. Fire melted the ice caps and threatened to flood the valley in which their cabin sat, but the arrival of All Father stopped such horrors from occurring. 

 

Normally, it was not done to have a man present at a birth. It was women’s work, but Sigyn kept her mouth closed to such thoughts while the All Father glowered from the other side of Loki’s room. 

 

“A curse upon that foul beast,” Loki yelled, his ire rising with his pain, “I would see his hide upon my floor, and his head upon the wall--to serve as warning for all!” A loud sound left him after his tirade--half whimper, half cry. 

 

Sigyn kept cleaning him with warm, wet towels, and kept a cool one upon his forehead. His anatomy was strange--like no Aesir male she’d ever seen--but Sigyn kept those thoughts for herself as she reached into his female opening to feel for the child. It would be hours yet, and Loki raged when she told this to both him and the king. 

 

Deep in the night, some fourteen hours after Loki began, the child slipped--silently--from his body. Sigyn thumped at his small white chest, trying to rouse his heart, but he was far too cold and still despite just exiting Loki’s body. 

 

The All Father held the infant, his eye hard as he gazed at the small form, and Sigyn left the room when she noticed the expression Odin settled over her. With a quick bow of respect she backed hastily from the room, and pulled on her fur before she stepped out, into the snow, to give them a modicum of privacy. Even so she heard Loki’s anguished screams, and Sigyn wept into her hands for the poor child the world would never mourn. 

 

 

***

 

 

Odin watched, with empathy, as Loki held the pitiful creature to his chest. Both of his long hands big enough to cover the stunted body, as if it had quit growing within Loki at some point, and Odin thought perhaps this was Fate’s way of taking care of this mess. Life would return to normal, for the better, and eons from now Loki would no more remember the child when he held other children of his own. 

 

Only, Odin knew, Loki would never forget. How could a parent forget their first child? Odin had never forgotten Baldr. That was a hold of hurt Odin always carried in his heart. Now, he could see the darkened ring of pain around Loki’s irises, and he knew that dark ring would never leave. So when Loki asked to keep the bones, Odin permitted him his request despite his feelings of ill ease. 

***

 

When he caught Loki, fattened with another bastard, some centuries later Odin was beyond angry. 

 

“Have you not learned your lesson, child?” Odin demanded as he approached Loki. 

 

“You do not scream at Thor for the mongrels he brings into his bed,” Loki shouted back, and Frigga came into his rooms when the guards alerted her to their violence. 

 

“Odin,” Frigga hedged when she noticed the large charred hole in the marbled floors, “What has you in such a state?” 

 

He turned upon her, fury in his face, “Your son would have himself ruined for marriage, and branded a whore in the eyes of the court!” 

 

Her gaze slid to Loki and understanding came upon her visage, she slipped her hand around Odin’s wrist, to pull her husband from the room. At Loki, over her shoulder, she threw an order to stay in the room. 

 

Safely in their chambers she turned upon him, “You will explain to me what is going on.” And so Odin did. He told Frigga everything. Of the first child that had not breathed and Loki’s exile. 

 

“He will know he is different soon, Odin,” Frigga reasoned, “We must tell him the truth.” 

 

“The truth will only hurt him; any questions he might ask should be answered in half truths.” Frigga did not look best pleased with that, but she remained silent as Odin marched down the corridor, calling behind him, “Take him to the north, and wait with him there.” 

 

 

***

 

Frigga went with Loki into the mountains, along with Sigyn, and Odin once again made excuses to the courts. Thor’s private questions he evaded easily enough by distracting Thor with the gift of Mjolnir.  

 

***

 

 

The child, or children rather, came the night Thor led his first battle. Asgard rumbled with the force of his thunder--Father had finally gifted him the coveted Mjolnir, according to Mother--and Loki smiled despite the pain. From the window he watched as lightning danced across the dark sky. Thor always was one for theatrics.  

 

“Push,” Loki heard Frigga command and as his body seized with another crippling contraction he did as she requested. 

 

When the beast was free of him he made a face. It was a rather large wolf that had fur black as midnight and eyes the color of blood. He hated it. This thing was nothing like his first, stillborn, child. Loki didn’t get much time to worry over that when more contractions came, and the second beast came--a serpent of a size he’d never seen. He waved the them away when Sigyn and Frigga tried to get him to put them to his breast. He would nurse none of these devils, and said as much as he tried to stand from the birthing bed. 

 

Frigga pushed him back down, gentling a hand across his forehead as she whispered that he needed rest. Her bright blue eyes saddened by his coldness, and he felt a twinge of guilt fill him. He would never tell her why she hated these beasts. 

 

***

 

For three days Loki remained in that bed, devoid of emotion and in constant pain. When Frigga returned to him she told him Sigyn had gone, and he shrugged at the information. 

 

“Walk with me, child,” Frigga pulled him from the bed, and they left the sleeping infants to their rest as they wandered out into the biting cold. 

 

Loki relished in the feel of the wind against his flushed face, and Frigga released a tinkling laugh when he threw open his fur, spinning in the snow with his arms wide. 

 

“I am ruined,” he despaired, after he’d exhausted his energies in his play. “Father was right, I should’ve never lain with another.” Then he added, “There is nothing good that comes from spreading myself and allowing them to make me their bitch.” 

 

Frigga took offense, and it showed in her face as she turned to Loki--slapping him across his pale cheek, “Foolish child, there is true power in surrender. They rut, you control.” 

 

At his disbelieving face she smiled. “Come, Mother will teach you the most powerful of all her sorceress arts.”

 

***

 

Odin welcomed Frigga and Loki back to the courts when a year passed. Frigga was a sight to behold, and breathed beauty back into the walls of the palace as she glided through the halls. Loki was much changed. He’d grown quiet, thoughtful, in his time away and there was a calculating gleam to his green eyes when he glanced upon certain Asgardians. 

 

Frigga stayed his anger when he went to put a stop to such dalliances. “I’ve spoken to him, my king, he now understands how to prevent future transgressions.” Odin had opened his mouth, to damn her, curse her, something, but the gleam in her eyes stopped him. His mouth having gone slack at the way she curved her neck, exposed a bit of her shoulder, and beckoned him nearer with a slight curl of her full pink lips. “I wish to retire early, my husband, would you retire with me?” 

 

Once beneath her thrall Odin was unable to refuse and followed her to her chambers. 

 

“Grief is in two parts. The first is loss. The second is the remaking of life.”

 

Years after the death of Loki’s nameless son, Loki presented Odin with a magnificent gift during his birthday celebrations. 

 

“I’ve created for you, Father,” Loki smiled, proudly, as he led the gift before Odin, “The greatest horse in all of The Nine Realms.” 

 

Indeed it was a marvelous creature, glossy pelt black as the night, and eyes like stars. Most unusual were its eight legs,  and as Odin approached he took note of the gentle way Loki gazed up at the creature. He looked upon it as Frigga looked upon Loki, and he knew then what this was. 

 

A creature forged for with the nameless bastard’s bones and stardust and magic. This was Loki’s child, remade, and he gifted him to Odin. 

 

“What is he called,” Odin asked as he raised his hand for the horse to press its soft nose to. 

 

“I call him Sleipnir, and there is no other horse worthy of the All Father.” 

 

In a rare show Odin smiled with affection and pulled Loki against his side. Uncaring of the crowd gathered around them as he pressed his cheek to Loki’s hair. 

 

“Loki brings me a horse, what have you for your father, Thor?” He demanded, in jest, at his elder son. The son who was busy laughing with his friends, and drinking his fill of drink. 

 

Thor spilled his mead in an attempt to stand, and the hall erupted into boisterous laughter. His glare did nothing to silence the hall; if anything the laughter grew, and Odin joined in at his son’s expense. 

 

“Father, I give you a spoil of war,” Thor said, producing for Odin a maiden, and he waved the offer away with a tired look. 

 

“I’ve no need for your spoils, Odinson; I have a queen far warmer than the unwilling embrace of a girl ripped from her homelands.” When Thor frowned Odin added, “Return her, from whence she came, and that will be gift enough for me.” 

 

Odin didn’t miss the pleased smile Frigga tried to hide behind her palm. 

 

“An injury is much sooner forgotten than an insult.”

 

Thor first heard the slander while in the training yard. His body grimy from sweat and dirt as he turned from his bested opponent to find the source of the whisper. 

 

His eyes landed upon one of the younger, newer Asgardian soldiers--mere boys, the same age as Loki, nineteen hundred to Thor’s twenty-one, and when he approached they cowered and went suddenly silent. 

 

“You will speak your words again; I would hear them in their fullness before I decide how to deal with your slander.” 

 

The taller of the two swallowed, and the other shrank back, awfully mindful of the hammer at Thor’s hip. 

 

“It was no slander to you, Odinson.” The braver of the two spoke, pulled himself up to his full height, and even dared to look Thor in the eye when he said, “He whispered of the rumor the guards tell.” 

 

“What rumor, and about whom?” 

 

The glance the boys shared did not go unnoticed by the assembled warriors in the training yards. When they didn’t seem as if they would offer the information freely Thor commanded, in his deepest tone that they speak or risk having his hammer to contend with. 

 

“About Prince Loki, sire, the guards are said to be called to his bedchamber at night. A different one each evening, and they say he spreads himself as a woman and begs akin to a whore.” Thor’s face grew murderous as they spoke more, “They call him the ergi seidr, and say that he has not the sex of a man, but the hidden cave of a woman--they say he bore monsters from his womb-” 

 

Mjolnir connected with a wall close to the one who spoke, stopping the lad’s nonsensical words, shattering the stone easily, and Thor breathed out heavily. “You will never speak these lies again. My brother, Loki, is Prince of Asgard and to speak such ill of him is punishable by death. I only spare you for the bravery you have shown.” To the more cowardly of the two he added, “You live only because I have no time to dally with children when the real slanders are roaming my halls.” 

 

“I long for the raised voice, the howl of rage or love.”

 

Odin looked up when Thor’s hammer brought his son sailing into the great hall. He was dirty with sweat and dust, but his fury seemed to override his need for cleanliness. For Thor was angry, angrier than Asgard had ever seen and a hush fell over the hall when he summoned the lightning to him. 

 

“The guards who would spread slander against one of the crowns of Asgard will step forward,” Thor commanded, words punctuated by thunder as he spoke them. “When I speak to Heimdall, if I should find there are more of you, know that you will be stripped of all honors when I kill you. Step forward now, with bravery, and you shall die with honor; of this I swear.” 

 

The guards twitched, and Thor’s mouth twisted with rage. “Those who would dare say they had Prince Loki as a woman shall come to me now.” 

 

Ten or so stepped forward, and that set Thor off anew. The hall was full of his fury, storms brewed heavily, and Odin sat motionless as his eldest son struck down the guards he deemed unworthy. Odin agreed. Whether Loki seduced them or not, to spread slander against a prince was an offence a king could not overlook. 

 

When the last of the guards fell, dead, against the floor, Thor rose Mjolnir and looked at those in the hall around him. “Let this serve as a lesson for the rest of you--to speak ill of Loki to speak ill of Asgard, and I will not let such slights go. To insult Loki is to insult Thor and as your future king I shall not stand for insults to be thrown at my name or those of my house.” 

 

Odin’s gaze slid to Loki and he saw a mix of fear and amusement as they warred across Loki’s expression. 

 

 

 

***

 

 

Thor found Loki in the library, straight nose buried in a relic of a tome that was covered in an impenetrable dust. It was an amusing sight, and he wore a smile full of fondness as he approached. 

 

The text was strange, when he was close enough to peer over Loki’s shoulder, and he frowned at the images therein. Pictures of baseless movements and wanton desires--Thor had never known Loki to be interested in the delights of flesh. His younger brother was the sort who normally kept his body covered, as he had since their early youth, when Thor and his friends would play naked in the cool waters of streams in summer. 

 

He had asked Loki of his shame once, for his trouble his brother had hit him with a spell that left him with a painful itch over his skin. The memory didn’t deter him from wearing a coy grin and whispering, “Do you find that woman fetching, brother?” 

 

“No,” Loki replied, closing the thick, leather cover, before he turned to look up at Thor. “I was wondering what you found so pleasing between the fleshy thighs of those dirty women you find down at the ale houses, and near the fisheries. This book gave little insight.” 

 

“I could take you, Loki, so that you might learn,” he spoke the words as a jest, never suspecting that Loki would accept his offer. 

 

The evening found them in the lower quarter of the city--a part that seemed shrouded in an infinite twilight due to the tall walls of the palace blocking most sunlight from the humble dwellings. Thor watched Loki openly as they walked amongst the peasants; curious as to how his brother would react once faced with the blatant debauchery in the lower quarter. Loki gave no hint of discomfort, and Thor looked forward to seeing his mask of placidity crumble once one of the whores had her wicked way with him. 

 

Only there were no women Loki sought; instead Thor blanched when his wily brother strode toward the mistress, who kept these people of pleasure, and whispered, “I want a man who spreads as a woman.” 

 

Thor punched the nearest patron who dared to snicker. “Anyone else,” he growled at the room at large, and they wisely averted their eyes while Thor waited against a wall. One girl cocked her head to the side, trying to entice him with the sultry curl of her smile, but Thor didn’t rise to the challenge. He would wait for Loki, in case his brother had need of him. 

 

He did not wait long; Loki came spitting with the fury of a wet feline some minutes after he’d gone into the room with the lean male the mistress provided. “We’re done here,” Loki snapped, charging past Thor with a flush to his sharp cheeks. He frowned after his brother, and turned when the male whore came back into the front room. 

 

Thor felt the crackle of anger beneath his skin and Mjolnir buzzed near his closed fist, “You will tell me in what manner you disgraced my brother.” It was not a request, and the man looked frightened as he lowered his head before his prince. 

 

“He asked to see me, sire,” Thor found less patience with the way this boy mumbled. 

 

“Speak up,” he barked, “Where you found lacking by Prince Loki?” 

 

“N-no,” his brown eyes were wide, terror evident within them, when he added, “He asked to see my privates, sire, and when I showed him he frowned and asked me some questions. He grew angry when I answered.” 

 

“Tell me what he asked of you,” Thor commanded. 

 

“He asked about my cock.” Thor quirked an eyebrow at that growling out that he continue when the man stood there silent before him. “He asked if it had always looked as it does.” 

 

“And how does it look,” Thor asked--wondering if perhaps this boy was injured or if Loki’s pride was wounded because the lad was gifted. Thor could never be sure what would lead to his brother’s bursts of anger. 

 

“Normal, sire?” He gave his mistress a questioning glance and she agreed with his words, causing Thor to frown further. 

 

“Did Loki say anything else to you?” His confusion came off more as anger when the boy before him flinched. 

 

“No, he just got a queer look on his face--almost like I’d hurt him, and then screamed before he ran out.” He twitched, in fear when Thor reached a hand up to stroke his own beard. 

 

“I will find him,” Thor said, mostly for his own benefit, “I will find him and put things right.” 

 

Only when Thor found Loki, hiding away in Mother’s garden, he was unable to put the light back into Loki’s dull eyes. “What troubles you, brother? Did you not know where to put it?” he jested, but Loki was unmoved as he stared out towards the oceans at the world’s borders. With a more somber expression and a gentler tone Thor spoke. “What troubles you, Loki?” 

 

“You are so good, Thor,” Loki’s voice was bitter, as if he was angered by that truth and Thor frowned. Before he could voice another question, Loki spoke, “Your coronation is tomorrow.” 

 

“So it is,” Thor whispered, a smile on his face as he thought of the throne on which he would sit. His glory would finally be known to the realms.  

 

“And tomorrow I will still be Loki, the trickster, the mage, the...” Loki’s voice was full of venom as he trailed off, but when Thor looked upon him he appeared small in a way, vulnerable, and frail. It was an odd sight to behold. Loki had always been clever and had strengths all his own; Thor had never once thought of him as a frail being to protect. 

 

“You will always be my brother,” Thor promised as he settled a comforting hand over Loki’s shoulder.  

 

Loki’s eyes were bright when he swallowed, Thor could see him thinking but he spoke no further and Thor wished to assure him that a crown would change nothing between them. Perhaps it was the hope of a foolish man, but he held tight to the belief that they would never be anything different than what they were now in this garden. 

 

***

 

Thor had waged war with many an enemy but each time he did so he always took pleasure in the battle. In his thirst for war he made his ancestors proud, with the spill of enemy blood he painted the beginnings of songs for the storytellers to sing, and with each win he showed the realm why when he died he would be welcomed gladly within the halls of Valhalla. 

 

Thor took no pleasure when he warred with Loki. Each battle was a scar that Thor could not wear proudly, and every violence he gave to Loki twisted in his gut like a well placed thrust of Sif’s sword. When they fought--truly fought--during those times when Loki looked upon him as an enemy and Thor held him at bay with sad eyes and compassionate words--Thor wondered who this creature was. For this was not his Loki. His Loki was cunning, wicked even, and playful to the point of cruelty, but he was not mad. But the Loki who faced Thor as an enemy was filled with madness. His green eyes were alight with the insatiable hunger for power--for approval, and it hurt Thor to see him as such a depraved creature. 

 

In all their years of life Thor had only ever faced him twice. 

 

Once in Asgard. Once on Midgard. 

 

Both battles were met with many devastations. Loki’s rage stole lives, it destroyed the Bifrost, wrecked worlds, and craved more. Even still, during the chaos, Thor loved him. He remembered the boy from his youth, the secret smiles and tender words. When Thor had the misfortune of watching Loki wage war he called to those memories, held them dear, so he would not kill the monster cackling before him. 

 

After Mother, when he sought to free Loki--Thor sought him with the hope that the Loki who had once loved them all still lived somewhere in this man. 

 

“Trust my rage,” Loki said, and Thor did. 

 

***

 

“I didn’t do it for him.” 

 

The words still haunted his dreams, and Thor woke to the noisy twilight of the city each time they whispered across his sleep. He felt the ghost of Loki with him more these days. Like a shroud of darkness Loki lingered at the edges of his mind, and followed him often through his day to day motions. 

 

He’d spy him at the corner of his vision, but when he’d turn he would find nothing more than the constant stream of Midguardians that milled about New York City. When he mentioned the visions Stark frowned, poured him a fairly strong ale, and admonished, “He’s dead, Thor, don’t chase shadows.” 

 

Thor knew, he’d been the one to hold Loki as his soul left his body, but still the doubt crept within him. Perhaps he had yet to circle through the stages of grief. Perhaps he was stuck in denial. 

 

Over a matter of months Thor had increasingly intense dreams. Dreams that pulled him to different realms--darkened wastelands that looked similar to the passages between worlds. In them he would see Loki as he was and yet as he could never be. He stood before Thor, in every dream, in a long emerald gown of gossimer. His hair a long spill of midnight, and his eyes smouldering, “Brother,” he whispered and Thor was entranced. 

 

“Where are we?” The same question each time they met. 

 

“We are where we cannot be seen,” always the same enigmatic reply from Loki. With the curl of a long finger Loki beckoned Thor follow him, “Come, let me whisper truths in your ear.” 

 

The dream after that point was fragmented until Thor finally woke. With the dawn he sat up, recalling the scent of Loki’s hair--wild as the sea, fragrant as Mother’s garden, and with a sinister hint of brimstone. 

 

_Mischief,_ Thor had whispered against that hair. Loki laughed in return, wrapping spindly arms about Thor’s shoulders. “Let me show you true mischief, brother,” he’d whispered against Thor’s mouth before drawing him into a kiss. 

 

Beyond that horrifying truth Thor could not clearly recall what happened. Jane stirred in the bed beside him and Thor glanced her way with a pounding, anxious heart. 

 

***

 

Loki visited him in a similar fashion for months. Thor woke to the memory of a biting kiss, and felt guilt over the things he experienced in the realm of sleep, in hidden shadows between worlds, and Thor carried that culpability with him. Until, one night, the dreams stopped. 

 

After a few months time the dread over the visions eased, and he went back to his life. 

 

Only, less than a year after the last dream, he went to bed and beheld a horrifying sight. Asgard, as he remembered her--as he loved her--was in ruins. The sky was the color of fire, and around the lands was war. Thor did not love the sight; it filled him with a vicious heartbreak.  

 

“Asgard needs you, Father,” a voice spoke to his immediate right, and Thor turned to behold the serious visage of a young man. He had hair like gold, and eyes that were brightest blue Thor had ever seen, his build and features were of Thor causing Thor to gape in shock. 

 

He demanded to know what this madness was, but the nameless man beside him only repeated, “Asgard needs you, Father.” 

 

***

 

The young man visited him occasionally, after that first night, in the realm of sleep. Yearly, to be exact, and it niggled at the back of Thor’s mind, but he did not chase the frivolous whims of his subconscious. He reasoned that he missed home, that he worried because he had heard no word from his father and the man was in that castle alone now--without Frigga, without Baldr, without Thor, without Loki.  Three of whom left him in death, but one who had walked away by choice. Thor missed his home, indeed, but he had given Jane his word that he would not leave her again, and Thor was a man of honor. 

 

Nothing short of civil war on Asgard would pull him away from her again. 

 

Then they had Ultron to contend with; Thor saw visions at the hands of a child--Loki would take joy in that,Thor was sure--and in those visions was a chaos he had never hoped to see. 

 

Even with Ultron gone, the nightmare plagued him. Growing worse as the years in the aftermath wore on. Thor’s decision was not easily made--his hands felt tied. 

 

The solution came, one winter morn, in the form of a heavily pregnant Sif and his warriors three. 

 

“Fandral,” Sif growled, answering the unspoken question Thor’s curious expression conveyed. “And if he so much as looks at me in an amorous way again I will rip his balls from his body and feed them to a boar.” 

 

Fandral ducked with a blush, and still Thor could see the proud smile that hid in the corners of his mouth. Jane was away, at work, but Thor didn’t feel like sharing the sudden arrival of Asgardians with her so he beckoned them to follow him this his Midgardian transportation.  Piling into the old Suburban Thor purchased with the money Stark freely gave ( _“Doubt you’ve had a job in your life, so here.”_ )  and he drove them to the Avenger’s tower. It was one of the few places in this still strange realm that Thor felt safe to speak his mind. 

 

Stark, of course, decided it was his right to sit in on their meeting and Thor allowed it with the warning that he should keep his comments to a minimum. While he enjoyed Stark’s company, Thor did not always enjoy his commentary. 

 

“Has Father sent you to collect me?” He inquired of his friends, and waited while they shifted in what appeared to be apprehension. 

 

Hogun shared a brief exchange with Fandral, in which nothing was said but Thor saw the subtle tilt of their facial expressions and he sucked in a breath when he caught sight of something he didn’t like there. 

 

“What of my father?” Thor demanded. 

 

Fandral let out a weary sigh, and Sif, in a rare show of affection, placed her hand over his to squeeze. The brief smile he shot her was met with a roll of her eyes, but even her seemingly cold attitude helped give Fandral the courage to tell Thor what they’d journeyed to relay. 

 

“Your father, Odin, is missing, and has been since shortly after you left,” Fandral admitted with a quiet voice.  

 

Stark stood suddenly, clapping Thor on the shoulder, “I’ll just fetch the scotch. I have a feeling this journey was one that was full of peril and that there is more we haven’t heard.” Stark used his dramatic voice, but for once Thor did not bark at him to shut his mouth--he was too shocked to respond. Then Stark grumbled something beneath his breath as he made his way to the bar, and Thor was fairly certain he was grumbling about _the first world problems of demi-gods._  

 

Volstagg ran his broad fingers over his beard, “The All Father’s absence was one we could handle in the beginning, but as the months drag on--without the leadership of a king--the people have grown restless.” He accepted a small glass of dark drink from Stark, and grunted his thanks before he continued. “A civil war is coming, Thor, and when the other realms hear of our weakness they will come to try and conquer us.” 

 

“Can Heimdall see my father?” He finally voiced his dread; if Heimdall could not see him then the All Father was truly lost to them. Thor was not prepared for another death; he had yet to truly mourn the others. 

 

Sif shook her head, hands going to her rounded stomach, smoothing over the curve there, “Heimdall has been unable to locate the All Father, but, lately, there have been glimmers of him.” 

 

“Where?” Thor demanded. 

 

“Midgard,” Hogun said, voice heavy with the accent of his people, and Thor was glad that he had been able to enjoy some time in his home. “Iceland, Heimdall said the land is called.” 

 

Stark, beside Thor, snorted. “Ironic.” 

 

***

 

Telling Jane was not easy, and was made harder yet by the presence of his friends. Her mouth was set with a hard line, and her eyes were anguished as she looked upon him. Thor wanted to give her the assurance that this wouldn’t be forever, but he could not make that promise. Wars lasted centuries in his home, and she didn’t have centuries to wait for him. 

 

“This is goodbye.” She didn’t pose it as a question and Thor didn’t answer. “I enjoyed every moment I had with you.” 

 

His smile was fond. “And I you, Lady Jane.” Thor, with his large, warm hands, lifted her fingers to his lips. “I shall never forget the happiness you brought me. Until the end of days, I will love you, Jane Foster.” 

 

When her smile bloomed, Thor felt less guilty. As he lifted his hammer, he took a moment to give a last glance around their shared apartment. He wanted to commit it to memory; one he could conjure in his mind when the harsh weights of a king’s duty threatened to crush his spirit. 

“Keep an eye on her for me, Man of Iron,” Thor requested as he clasped arms with Tony Stark. 

 

“I will, Thor, and if you need help with your war you know where to find me.” Then he added, “Me and the others. We would help you, as surely as we know you will always help us.” 

 

“I appreciate the sentiment, old friend, but my war may well outlive you, your children, and even your grandchildren.” The last time the realms were at war with Asgard it was a few thousand years before the realm was calm once again.  

 

“Way to brag,” Stark laughed, and Thor joined in the laughter before he joined his warriors in the plane Stark had prepared for their flight. 

 

***

 

Odin woke, slowly, to the sounds of a youngling’s laughter and it drew a smile across his face. He sat up, popping the crick in his neck, just in time for a blur of bright gold to whirl into the room. 

 

“Balthor,” Loki’s voice came from the corridor, “Careful with Odin, he is old.” Odin shot Loki a disgruntled look that went unnoticed as Loki pinned the young Balthor with a stern look, “You are to mind your grandfather while I am away, and if you do not mind there will be no treat this evening.” 

 

“Yes, Mother,” Balthor said sweetly, and Odin grinned when he saw Loki slump in the face of such a marvelous child. 

 

“Don’t spoil him too horribly, Odin, I will return at the evening.” 

 

“Of course, child, away with you--back to those books of yours. We shall be here--minding ourselves.” 

 

Loki didn’t look convinced, but he drew on his glamor--the one Odin had to convince him to use--before he headed for the stairs. 

 

When the door clicked closed, behind Loki, Odin grinned at Balthor. “Shall we have an adventure?” 

 

“Yes, please, Grandfather!” Balthor, in all his six year old glory, bounced in place. His blue eyes sparkled like the stars, and his golden hair gleamed in the rays of the sun--for a moment it brought a nostalgic mist to Odin’s eyes. 

 

 

***

 

The home was simple, a white two story, with a black roof dusted heavily with snow. It was secluded, not another like it for miles on the lone road, and set behind it was a large lake of blue-green waters. It was pleasant, and Thor could see why his father had chosen it to retreat to, but that did not justify the man’s betrayal. Adjusting his cape, Thor motioned for his warriors to follow. There would be no battle, but he’d come here for Asgard and as such he would wear his colors to show that he was here for her glory. 

 

As they approached Sif pulled her furs open, this area was far warmer than the snow suggested and Thor made an irritated face. It wouldn’t do for his father to be tinkering with the weather--it would only serve to draw attention when he wanted to be left in peace. With a frown in place Thor marched onward, and paused when they turned the corner around the side of the house--where there were rather loud voices. Loud happy voices. 

 

“Kneel before Thor, Jotunn, for you are no match to the power of my hammer, Mjolnir!” A youngling, no more than six, shouted at Odin. His cape too long on his small body, but as vivid as Thor’s own, and his hair just as bright. It gave them all reason to pause--Thor and his warriors--each one of them wide eyed as they took in the scene before them. 

 

Odin, All Father, King of Asgard, was knelt before a child pretending to die at the child’s hand, “I, King Laufey, ruler of the Jotnar, am no match for the mighty power of Thor.” 

 

“As I recall,” a sultry, yet familiar voice spoke, “It was I who slayed Laufey, not Thor.” Thor’s gaze was immediately drawn to the figure leaning against the opposite end of the house. He wore a glamor, one that made him appear as an Asgardian female--with small breasts and narrow hips--but Thor would know Loki in any form. 

 

“Mother,” the youngling called to Loki, “Did you see? Did you see?” 

 

“Aye, child, I did--now, if your grandfather had been paying attention he would’ve seen that we have company.” Wide bright blue eyes landed upon Thor, then, and pinned him with a look full of wonder as the child’s mouth curved into a blinding smile.   
  
“Mother! Mother,” he jumped pointing to their group, “Thor has come!” 

 

“Indeed,” Loki drawled, running slim white fingers over the curve of the boy’s cheek, “Now run along and ready yourself for dinner--before Thor is made to use his hammer upon you.” 

 

That snapped Thor into action, “I would never wield Mjolnir upon a child, Loki.” 

 

The smile Loki wore was full of mischief, “I was just making sure you hadn’t died of shock, Thor.” He gestured, and the feminine glamor fell away from him in a shimmer of green magic, “Now then, shall you and your warriors join us inside before the weather turns harsh again?” 

 

Odin ambled inside, not offering any sort of greeting, and Thor followed behind him. 

 

The inside of the cottage was warm, and when the enchantments outside were lifted they were grateful to the roar of the fire in the hearth. It was quaint, much like the outside suggested, and was clean. A smell wafted into the sitting room from the kitchen that smelled of a hot stew, and Volstagg’s belly rumbled in appreciation.  

 

Loki was at the bannister, yelling up the stairs, “Balthor, you will come down when I call you, and you best not try to eavesdrop. I promise Thor will greet you before the day is out; do I have your word you will mind?” 

 

“Yes, Mother,” Balthor’s voice came, at last, full of disappointment. Thor found the entire thing to be very surreal. 

 

Thor took a seat when Odin directed him to a chair. Years of doing as his father ordered had him mindlessly obeying. Sif sat with Fandral while Hogun and Volstagg stood near the home’s entrance. Loki noticed, a small smirk twitched at his mouth, but he said nothing as he too took a seat, near Odin. 

 

A silence, thick and charged, fell over the room while Odin stroked his beard. It felt like an eternity had passed by the time his deep voice rumbled through the room. 

 

“There is only one reason you would seek me now--civil war in Asgard.” It wasn’t a question; so no one answered, and Odin continued, with a sad look. “I have no plans to return to Asgard yet. There is a task I’ve yet to complete and until it is fulfilled I will not return to my throne.” 

 

Outraged, Thor stood while he shouted, “Are you mad?!” His eyes were wild as he threw his arm out, gesturing to the room around them, “You leave Asgard for this?!” 

 

Loki was the one who snipped back, “You did it, too, Thor so you have no room to judge Odin.” 

 

“Have I gone mad,” Thor demanded, “Loki, _enemy_ of Asgard, sits before me defending the All Father--the _king_ of Asgard, protector of The Nine Realms, sworn to protect them until he draws his last breath!” With a rather cutting glance at Odin he said, “As I see it you are still breathing.” 

 

“I am,” Odin nodded in agreement, then with a piercing look up at Thor he added, “You are not the only one who has had to weigh a crown against a love.” At Thor’s confused look he elaborated, “I am here until I can find a way to return Frigga to my side.” 

 

“It cannot be done, Father,” Thor deflated, full of sorrow at the reminder of the loss of his mother and full of guilt for adding salt to the wounds of his father. “She’s gone, and even if you could somehow pull her soul from Helheim what body would you return it to?” 

 

Loki and Odin shared a look--a glance Thor did not like in the least--and it was Loki who answered, “I will craft her a new one, Thor, from stardust and clay.” 

 

Thor threw himself back into his seat, a frustrated noise escaping him, “No one can craft a body, Loki--it is not done--not even a trickster such as yourself can accomplish such a feat.” 

 

After a short spell of silence, Loki whispered, “I’ve done it before.” 

 

Fandral, seemingly sensing the vulnerability in Loki, and the possible fragility of the coming conversation, stood, clapping his hands together, “I say we make ourselves acquainted with the young prince upstairs, what say you, my lady, lads?” 

 

Sif wasn’t happy to be excluded, but she stood, accepting Fandral’s hand, “It might do us some good to talk to a child before we have a babe of our own.” 

 

His laugh was genuine, “Might do to have some practice, yes.” 

 

Loki twitched, with nervous energy, as he watched the group ascend his stairs and Thor wore an irritated face as he waited for his friends’ steps to settle. Upstairs the boy, Balthor, delighted at the arrival ( _“You’re Thor’s men! And the majestic Lady Sif”_ ).  His excitement caused Thor’s lips to twitch with the hint of a smile, but Loki moving stole what little mirth he felt. 

 

“I saw you die,” he bit out, and Loki rolled his eyes. 

 

“It will take much more than that to kill me, Thor--I thought you were smart enough to see through my tricks,” Loki’s smile was cruel and sharp--the same smile Thor could recall through their youth, centuries before. The one that haunted his dreams for that strange year, as well. “Though, I will admit, it was painful.”

 

“I should kill you now,” Thor growled, eyes bright as he gripped the seat of his chair, “For another of your tricks is leading Asgard to war. A war that will benefit no one, and for what, Loki?” 

 

“For Frigga,” Loki muttered, eyes hard. “Your mother, the one who nurtured you and loved you even when you were unloveable.” 

 

“Are you speaking from personal experience?” Thor questioned with narrowed eyes. 

 

“Perhaps I am,” Loki hissed in return. 

 

“They won’t let you take anything from Helheim without a price.” Thor’s words were weary with reason, and he settled a somber gaze over his brother, hoping to convey the madness of this endeavor. An endeavor that could not be done.  

 

“I know,” Loki sighed. “I’ve made the exchange before.” 

 

***

 

It was another hour of discussions before Thor made his way up the stairs, tired and glad to be out of Loki’s infuriating presence. So many lies, so many secrets, Thor had never been privy to and now--now he was exhausted with the weight of them, but he could not let his anger at Loki sour the innocent child waiting for him upstairs. 

 

Thor hadn’t asked to whom the child belonged; he was obviously of Odin, and the implications of what Loki might have done with his father sent his stomach rolling, but Thor brushed it aside as he entered his--probable--younger brother’s room. 

 

Fandral had Balthor’s arm, showing him the proper way to parry, and Balthor was staring up at Fandral as if he were the answer to the universe. Sif, seated on the bed, smiled on at them as she cupped the hard swell of her growing babe. Thor didn’t dare ask her how long she had left--women, especially Sif, were volatile at the best of times let alone while heavy with a child. 

 

“Loki says dinner is ready,” Thor stated, awkward, when they all gave him their eyes.

 

“I’ll have Volstagg test it before I taste a bite,” Sif said, without much humor, and Balthor frowned but remained silent. His eyes considering as they settled over Sif, but the moment was broken when Sif got slowly to her feet. Fandral leading her and the others down the stairs while Balthor remained behind.  

 

Soon enough Thor was alone in the room with Balthor, and he shuffled, unsure of what to say as those wide eyes stared up at him in renewed wonder. Clearing his throat, he gestured to the door. “Will join us downstairs?” 

 

“Will I be permitted to sit by your side?” Balthor inquired and despite the crawl of disgust at how the child came to be Thor smiled. He would treat this boy as any other child he might meet, and Thor didn’t have it in him to hate a youngling. 

 

“You are welcome to dine beside me, young warrior, after you wash your hands.” Balthor was a blur as he made his way to the bathroom. Thor chuckled after him, before he turned to the corridor and made his way Loki’s long table. Fate saw fit to sit Balthor between Loki and himself, and Thor sucked his teeth, but remained silent. He would not give Loki the chaos Thor was sure he craved.  

 

Dinner was eaten in tension, but the food was divine, and eventually Balthor got the conversation flowing--cutting through the underlying distrust and anger. Children, Mother used to say, were a force of wonder that could drive out any ill feelings. Thor had never believed that statement, not until this night when she saw Sif laugh with delight in Loki’s presence. Something Sif had not done since their own youth.   

 

After they dined, Loki followed Balthor up the stairwell, to run him a bath, but he refused to go until Thor promised he would see Balthor on the morrow. Volstagg elbowed him and, with a booming laugh, told Thor he had a new admirer. 

 

Thor shook his head at such nonsense while Odin smiled fondly in the direction of the stairs --from which Balthor’s excited voice flowed down, “Mother, I ate beside _Thor_.” 

 

Loki’s reply was quiet, so quiet Thor didn’t hear but he imagined it was spoken with an amused smile. 

 

***

 

Late in the evening, when they were sure Balthor was in bed, Odin told them of his plans. In one hand he held a large glass of ale, and he used the other to point to various maps that were laid across Loki’s living room table. 

 

“We will storm Helheim, through the front gates--nothing too surprising else they will be suspicious and will keep Frigga from us.” Odin ignored the gathered looks of unease, instead he continued, “The King of Helheim is an old acquaintance of Loki’s.” 

 

“I’m sure,” sniffed Sif, in that disdainful way women managed when speaking of other women and it riled Loki, to no one’s surprise. 

 

“Don’t worry, Sif, I won’t force you to watch. I suppose I could offer him my body in exchange for Frigga’s soul,” his words were pure venom and in his eyes there was that crazed gleam Thor had beheld many times before. 

 

Sif’s face was full of disgust as she glared at Loki, where he stood--the picture of an arrogant prince--against the wall with his slim arms crossed. “An hour of you on your knees, panting, is not worth the soul of an evil queen--let alone the soul of our Queen Frigga.” 

 

Loki’s smile was all bite, no kindness laid therein, as he hissed, “Do not underestimate the tricks Queen Frigga shared with me, you uncouth whore--while you might lie there like a hapless fish, I know the true power of my role. I would kill him between my thighs, and I promise you he would welcome the death.” 

 

Odin intervened when Sif looked ready to push herself out of the chair and when Loki went to unsheath the dagger in his sleeve, “Enough, Loki! We’ve already decided the exchange.” 

 

When Odin did not readily tell them Thor demanded to know what Odin planned to sacrifice. 

 

“I owe you no answer, Thor.” His father’s cold tone caused Thor’s lip to curl into a sneer. 

 

“You owe me the truth if you expect me and my men to ride with you; to what is most certainly death,” Thor argued--his anger shaking the house as thunder clapped outside the thin walls. 

 

“Until the people of Asgard choose to take you for their king; I am king and I will share with you what I believe you must know--I owe no one my words of explanation. Be glad I’ve shared with you this much.” Odin had always been a stubborn man, and most times Thor had admired that trait. Not this night. 

 

Yet, Thor bit back the argument he had ready on his tongue--they could all see him struggle to keep his tongue still--and it was Volstagg who twitched in his seat before he offered Odin his pledge. 

 

“When do we leave, my king?” Odin nodded to Volstagg, a slight tip of the head, in a show of gratitude. In truth, that was what Thor had always admired of Volstagg--his unwavering loyalty. 

 

“We ride at the height of twilight,” Odin moved to stand, and Loki was there, in an instant, to help him to his feet. The sight was odd to Thor; it had been lifetimes since Loki had regarded Odin as someone he cared for, and to see him, now, with a soft set to his eyes was strange. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would rest before we ride. It might be my last chance to sleep.” Thor nodded to his father, still stiff and unhappy, but it might well be the last time they interact. He was too old to make his bed with rage.  

 

“I have spare sheets, pillows, a bed, and some of these padded mats Balthor insisted upon,” Loki offered to them, and in another rare show of kindness he said, “The bed shall be yours, Lady Sif, despite my general dislike of you I know what it’s like to sleep on hard floors while pregnant.” 

 

Fandral convinced Sif to let him share her bed, in Loki’s spare room, while Hogun and Volstagg used the mats Loki provided--spreading them upon the living room floor. 

 

Thor went upstairs, intent on sleeping in the corridor, near Balthor’s room to protect him from any evils, but Loki’s hand on his arm stopped Thor before he went left at the top of the stairs. “My bed is large, Odinson, if you’d care to share it with me like we did in our youth?” 

 

The centuries had passed and even still Thor could recall--with great clarity--those nights he and Loki shared chambers. They would awake up until the sun woke, and Loki would read Thor stories of glorious battles while Thor enacted them with his blunted sword. Though Loki had not always been noble, though he had lied, cheated, and nearly killed Thor--even after all of that--Thor could not deny his love for his brother, his first true friend. He remembered, then, Loki’s words before the coronation Loki would ruin, “ _Sometimes I am envious, but never doubt that I love you._ ” In all the fights, through all the betrayals, Thor had never doubted that fact. Even now, as distrusting as he was of Loki he knew that Loki would bring him no harm. So he followed, silent, to Loki’s bed. 

 

***

 

Despite the shortness of their sleep, Thor’s mind was plagued with nightmares. Consuming Hel fire that licked around his body as Loki laughed from a high rock, and a boy screamed in the distance while Odin’s head rolled, bloody, across a jagged, slate floor. 

 

With a start he woke, his body wet with perspiration, and he flinched when he felt a cool palm slip against his naked chest. Loki was still in the hold of sleep; pale as snow in the moonlight and looking as innocent as any devil could in slumber. Thor released a slow breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and slipped from Loki’s bed. Outside the window, snow fell in thick, soft flakes that he watched as they gathered upon the sill. The weather cold where his dream had felt so hot he could still feel his skin melting away. 

 

Behind him he heard Loki shift in the bed, his voice was laced with sleep when he spoke, “Is it time to leave?” 

 

“Yes,” Thor muttered, his thoughts in dark places as he recalled the cries he heard in slumber. 

 

Loki didn’t seem to take notice as he crawled from the bed and pulled an outfit from the closet.   

 

***

 

Odin saw the way Thor kept shooting Loki distrusting glances and sighed when he pulled Loki aside, “What did you do?” They didn’t have the time to dance around the point. 

 

“I, Father?” Loki wasn’t in the slightest bit convincing. 

 

“Yes, you, Loki,” Odin hissed, his eye blazing, “I will not lose Frigga a second time to your tricks.” It was a growing fear within Odin; the final loss of the hope to have Frigga restored to him. If he lost in this then there would be no meaning to his abandonment of Asgard and then he would be truly desolate. That was the terror that rushed through him, and made him grip Loki to the point of causing his bones to creak. 

 

“It was no trick, Father,” Loki’s shoulders dropped and Odin smashed his twinge of guilt into submission as he released Loki from his hold. “I imagine his oafish brain was trying to work through all the lies and he had a nightmare.” 

 

“That had better be all it is, Loki,” Odin warned; he climbed upon the back of his horse, and accepted Balthor from Loki’s hands before Loki joined them upon Sleipnir. Thor’s deep frown spoke volumes and told Odin he was not pleased with the riding arrangements, but Odin did not care to appease his son. He would ride with Loki and Balthor as they had planned before Thor stumbled into the midst of their planning. 

 

***

 

Helheim was located at the apex of the nine worlds, a mass of dark nothingness where souls would spend all of their days. A queen, a king, and a crippled rotting child were the rulers of such horrors, surrounded by broken possessions, twisted--half-living, half-dead--creatures that the princess Hel, said to be named as such because she reflected her world so well, created when she touched the souls of lost creatures who happened to wander near. Sif shifted as she moved to hold her reins tighter, wanting her arms close as she could to protect the child in her body. Thor thought her brave for coming at all, and appreciated that she put the selfish whims of her king over the safety of her unborn. 

 

When the gate loomed before their fold, a structure made of gray mortar and the molded bones of Helheim’s enemies, Sleipnir neighed and Loki soothed a hand across his thick neck with gentle fingers. 

 

“I promised we would never return here, but sometimes we must do that which we never intend to do,” Thor heard Loki whisper, and he grimaced when he watched the color drain from Balthor’s face. A child of six should not be exposed to such cruelties. 

 

Odin caught the words Thor didn’t mean to speak and in return he said, “A child he might be, but one day he will sit the throne. If he cannot handle a journey such as this then I fear for the future of Asgard.” Odin clicked his tongue, a command for Sleipnir to approach the gates. The steed did so; bucking his head near them until the bones sensed fresh souls were close and opened to allow them entrance. 

 

The broken, blackened road was desolate, and Thor agreed when Hogun muttered how the lands were too silent for it to be a good sign. Somewhere, in the distance, a disembodied giggle echoed and Thor readied Mjolnir in his hand. Fandral rode closer to Sif, his sword at the ready and she snorted at his show of protection as she pulled forth her own weapon. Thor paid them little mind, his eyes ever mindful of the impenetrable gloom that was settled just beyond their narrow path. Great horrors lived in that darkness; horrors he heard his mother tell when he was still in the nursery and Balthor was still the first crowned prince. They were faint memories, now, but he could still recall the dread and fears that had crawled through his young body--filling his veins with ice. He knew only comfort and warmth in his parent’s chambers for months after those stories. There would be no fragrant arms to pull the cold from him now, and so he tightened his grip on Mjolnir as another laugh bounced around them. 

 

Volstagg brought up the rear of their procession, his own steed turning him in slow circles every few steps so that he could try and see if anything approached them from the surrounding darkness. 

 

When a enormous spindly castle loomed before them Loki dismounted from Sleipnir, and he didn’t heed Odin’s call as he advanced on the steps leading into the twisted mockery of a castle. 

 

Loki fell to the ground, onto his knees with a sudden jolt, as if he were forced to them, and from a one of the skeletal trees a tall man, covered in flaking white skin with deep red eyes, smirked down at where Loki was kneeled. “Loki, the fallen Jotunn _princess_ , to what do we owe this meeting?” 

 

“Samgangr, King of Helheim, we meet again,” Loki smiled, cocky as ever as he stared up at the looming ruler. “I come to seek a trade.” 

 

The laugh that erupted from Samgangr’s throat was a deep sound that sent unwelcome ice through each of their stomachs, and Thor had to smooth a hand down the side of his horse’s neck to keep the startled beast from spooking into a run. “You come to my door, demanding another soul, do you?” There was no kindness to the smile that curved Samgangr’s thin, colorless lips. 

 

“I do,” Loki replied, ever defiant. 

 

“And what are you willing to trade for this soul, Laufeyson?” The assembled warriors saw the way Loki grit his teeth, and Thor was sure no one missed the delight that lit across Samgangr’s face. With a gesture of his hand another being, equally pale as Samgangr, appeared--her eyes as scarlet as the blood in Thor’s veins and he shivered when they stared down, upon Loki with unmasked hatred. “My lovely, Illska, Loki has returned to us--he comes for a soul,” Samgangr’s whisper was a mockery of quiet, so loud in the eternal night that whatever evils lived beyond sight hissed and rattled unseen trees. 

 

Illska’s eyes flitted to Odin, and Sif jolted when she realized--at the same time Thor did--it wasn’t Odin but the child seated before him. In an instant, Sif was in front of Sleipnir, her blade flashing in the darkness around them. “You will not harm the boy,” she boomed up at the queen of Helheim. “He is innocent!” 

 

“Ah,” Illska purred, “Yes, as innocent as Hel when she was delivered to us, is he not, Loki?” She didn’t give Loki the chance to respond, instead she stalked closer--her steps causing the ground to dry and crumble--her eyes bright with anger as she hissed, “You would trade your precious babe for the first born of Asgard. Gave her to us as if she were trash, and here you are...mocking us with your perfect Thorson.” 

 

_That_ startled Thor, but he was not given the chance to demand answers when Loki spoke. “I do not regret giving Hel to you. I would never, will never, love her the way you do.” Illska narrowed her eyes at Loki, and he continued, "If I can speak to Hel, and convince her of my plight would you return Frigga unto me?" 

 

With an unhurried gaze Illska considered him, eyes still not trusting, and after a time she spoke, "If she agrees, but if she does not what should Hel have as payment for being forced upon your company?" 

 

"My soul,"Loki readily offered. 

 

Samgangr cackled, eyes full of wicked delight when he cried, "Your soul is so wretched it is worthless to even us." His gaze flickered to Balthor and he added, with a deranged tone, "Make it the boy and you have a deal." 

 

Loki’s nod was too casual, and Thor’s blood boiled with his outrage. While his shout was ignored by Loki, Odin, and the royals of Helheim. 

 

Hel was beckoned forth then, before Thor could call for his warriors to charge. Her presence shocked him; causing him to go still as she hobbled into view. She was a pitiful, almost beautiful, molding thing. With skin that chaffed off, snowing around her in thick flakes, and she did her best to cover her mangled legs with her skirts. However, they still could see the damage before she was hidden and Thor pitied this child of Loki’s. Until her red eyes fell upon Loki causing her face to turn cold, and evil delight danced across Hel’s features as Samgangr told her of Balthor's soul. 

 

"Do it for me, your mother," Loki whispered, eyes shining with false emotion, and even Thor could tell it was a lie--Hel was even less impressed. Sif shifted her horse in front of Sleipnir, her blade at the ready. Thor nodded to his men; all of them readying their own weapons as Loki kept the royals of this realm occupied with his one man play. 

 

"You are no mother to me, Laufeyson," Hel hissed causing Loki to grin arrogantly.  

 

"Indeed, child, I am no mother to you. There was never a beat of love in my heart for you, only vile contempt. Just as there was no love in Laufey as a mother for me." With almost tender eyes he looked upon her, and whispered, "But where you have Illska, I had Frigga and I squandered her love for me. I wish only to make it right by her so that I could know her love again. Do not deprive the universe of her gentle heart." 

 

Even still Hel was unmoved, centuries of hatred for Loki, her birth mother, running deep, "I would have your son, the Thorson, and I would keep him and your mother." 

 

Loki's smile was a mask of cold fury--the speed at which his expressions changed always managed to shock others and Thor watched as Hel reeled from the switch, "See, child, that is where you are wrong. For as deeply as you love Illska I love Frigga deeper still, and for as much as Illska cares for you I care for Balthor more. You will have neither my mother nor my child," around them, in the air, energies crackled, and even Samgangr managed a frightened expression. His long, reedy fingers wrapped quickly around a black blade while his intense eyes narrowed to wary red slits. Thor held tight to Mjolnir as he watched a storm of seidr that shimmered in viridescent clouds around them. The air was heavy, and pressed down upon the back of Thor’s neck with an oppressive humidity. 

 

"You have no power here, Loki," Samgangr roared, gaze still wary, but Loki only cackled in response. 

 

"I am Loki, of Asgard, I have power _everywhere_ ," as he rose to his feet so did the dense power, and with glee Loki pulled Samgangr to his knees. His arms wide as swirling magics wove around him. With a glance at Hel he smirked, coldness evident in his verdant gaze, "It is your choice, my child, return Frigga to me or see you world tremble beneath my hate." When Hel stood silent he added, on a whisper that was loud in the torrent of his rage, "I will bring this world to its knees, stone by stone, soul by soul, until I have Frigga. The first to die will be the very whore you love as a mother. Next I will torture this father of yours,” for emphasis he lit Samgangr with a light that caused the king to release an unholy scream, “This will continue for  centuries, until he begs for the darkness of death. And finally, girl, I will come for _you_. The bastard I bore for these wretches, and I will show you no mercy." 

 

Thor saw what little color remained in Hel drain from her face, and he knew then that Loki had won. Illska was the one who granted him Frigga, her voice faint and fearful when she said, “You may take your Frigga, Laufeyson. Take her, and be gone.”  

 

When they departed, Frigga's soul in a gilded chest, Samgangr asked Loki, "How many souls would you have us return; who in this world could mean so much to a monster like you?" 

 

With a smile Loki said, "I will always return; for my family, for Frigga, for Odin...for Thor, until the end of the worlds. So long as I breathe so shall they. For even soulless monsters such as myself have the capacity to love others." 

 

"And would they tear down Helheim for you, Loki of Asgard," Illska sneered while she held Hel to her chest. 

 

"No," Loki whispered, readily, but he still smiled. "And I've learned, recently, to accept that." As an added insult he flipped his cape over his shoulder and with a simpering tone said, "Always a pleasure doing business with you." 

 

***

 

Thor had taken Balthor on his steed, and Odin had not uttered a word against him while Loki rested, drained of all his energies, against Sleipnir’s neck. Sif rode close to Fandral, while Volstagg and Hogun circled their procession. Eyes ever wary. On the off chance Samgangr changed his mind, choosing instead to send his horrid creatures after them.  

 

“Loki,” Thor heard Odin whisper, “You used more magic than you should have.” 

 

The laugh Loki released was a dark yet humored sound, “I had to make it convincing.” 

 

“I need you well before we return to Asgard.” Loki didn’t respond and no other words were spoken as they made their way into the passages between the worlds. The ones Loki knew intimately. Balthor was despondent in Thor’s hold. His small hands tight in his own tunic as they ambled over the rocky terrain. For hours they rode in silence, Loki stayed asleep in the saddle with Odin behind him running healing magics against his temple. Balthor’s blue gaze, dulled with what he’d recently witnessed, fell upon Sleipnir. 

 

His words were so silent Thor almost missed them, “That monster was my sister.” 

 

Thor’s eyes flitted to Loki, “You learn to live with the truth.” 

 

“I didn’t know my mother could be so cruel,” his small voice was full of heartbreak.  

 

With a grimace, Thor confided to Balthor, “There are many facades to Loki--cruelty is the most prevalent in many of those.” 

 

***

 

Asgard was not what Thor expected. The streets were dirtied with blood and battle--Asgard’s people scattered with strife, and it hurt his heart so to see them as such. A glance at those around him showed that they too did not enjoy to see her in such a state. All but Loki who still managed to sleep despite the noise around them. Thor dismounted, and told Balthor to stay in the saddle, and after a brief hesitation he said, “Can you handle a blade?” 

 

Balthor’s expression was incredulous as he looked upon Thor, “Odin wasn’t always just playing with me in the yard.” For one so young he was sharp of tongue. 

 

Thor laughed, feeling his mood lift slightly, “Of course, Father will make a warrior of you yet.” The child accepted the blade Thor offered, and Thor motioned for Sif. “Keep close to this one--Fandral, Hogun, Volstagg you come with me.” 

 

They stormed into the midst of a battle, waging between two families who once swore fealty to Odin, and with a grimace Thor bellowed between them. “You will yield!” 

 

Startled some of the warriors around them paused, sword and shields metallic clangs tapering off with their cease of attack. 

 

“Thor,” one man said, anger and awe warring in his tone, “You return, now?” 

 

“Had I known Odin was missing I would’ve returned to Asgard sooner--it hurts my heart to see her people as they are now.” He gestured to the destruction around them, the clouds of dust that had yet to settle, and the fires that burned the taverns of innocent, harmless citizens. “Is this what is to become of Asgard’s legacy? Ruin at the hand of her own sons?” 

 

Many took to the knee, a few, defiant, stayed upright--gripping their weapons as if they intended to wield them. Thor settled an unamused look over the leader on one side, Tyr, and called upon the thunder when the man refused to kneel. “I would make a lesson of you, old friend, I would kill you in the streets and remind the people that Odinson is still the rightful king of this realm--that Thor was the one who calmed the realms, and won peace.” 

 

Tyr, his old face twisted with rage, shouted, “You lost the right to the throne, you and Odin both, when you abandoned Asgard for your personal desires. Do not speak to me, Odinson, as if you are my king! My fealty lies with Asgard, and I would not serve a man who would leave her in her time of need!” 

 

“I am here, Tyr,” Thor boomed at him, his rage apparent with the darkening sky, “I would’ve returned sooner had a message been sent to me. My duty lies with Asgard. I left with the knowledge that my father still sat the throne! So where was my summons when my father disappeared, where was this loyalty to Asgard you speak of? Had you been loyal to Asgard you would’ve come to me--the rightful king--and I would’ve returned to keep the peace.” Mjolnir hummed within Thor’s palm, and his thick fingers gripped the handle tight, “Make your choice, Tyr. Bend the knee or bow beneath Mjolnir.” 

 

By this point most of the men had knelt and Thor signaled for his own men to hold off on the group who had refused. “I will deal with them.” To the warriors before him he said, “Come, let us end this.” 

 

***

 

Loki woke to the scatter of lightning. He lifted his heavy head from Sleipnir’s soft mane to see the bright ropes of Thor’s anger dancing across the heavens. Odin was dismounting, and Loki turned away from Thor’s temper to catch Odin telling him to stay with Sif and Balthor. Gungnir appeared within Odin’s hand, the first Loki had seen of it in near seven Midgardian years, and a smirk played at his lips when Odin struck the staff to the ground. The earth beneath Sleipnir’s hooves rippled with Odin’s power, and what fools still continued to battle paused. When the dust of the earth settled they could see Thor in the distance. Merciless as he laid waste to those who would usurp the crown. 

 

Tyr’s helmet was beneath Thor’s arm, a mark of the man’s defeat, as he approached Odin. Blood and dirt--Thor had always worn them well, but his heart was notably heavy as he offered the trophy of his victory to Odin. It was placed at Odin’s feet, and he looked upon the prize with sorrow evident in his one good eye. 

 

“Come, my son,” Odin’s voice was soft but loud in the stillness around them, “Let us heal Asgard, together.” 

 

***

 

War was still waging outside, in the outlands of Asgard, where the mutinous had fled, and had joined some of their enemies from other realms. Balthor could hear it beyond the newly constructed walls of the palace. It had been near an Asgardian year since their return, and Loki had told Balthor his father and grandfather would return Asgard back to her former glory. But there was a sparkle of mischief in Loki’s eye when he whispered, “Until then, the battles will be fun to watch.” 

 

Now, the end was in sight, or so Thor told Balthor when he’d come into the dining hall at night--dirtied with war--and sat beside him. “We’re down to one enemy, son, and when they are felled I shall show you Asgard in all of her glory.” 

 

Loki, from Balthor’s other side, muttered, “You have to rebuild much of Asgard before you can fulfil that promise.” As it usually did when Loki opened his mouth, Thor’s face showed his irritation and he took up a large leg of a boar--biting into it savagely. His actions seemed to amuse Loki, who leaned forward on the table, a sharp smile on his face as he said, “Don’t take your anger out on your dinner, heathen--I’m here, at your mercy, whenever you care to have me.” 

 

Balthor didn’t like the way Thor’s hand twitched for his hammer and so he turned, pleading with Loki, “Don’t, Mother, please--mightn’t we eat in peace for once?” 

 

Loki’s gaze shot briefly to Thor, even at seven Balthor could see the contempt that was there for Thor, and then those vivid green eyes fell back upon Balthor--gentling as Loki touched the child’s cheek. “Of course, Balthor, if that is what you wish.” 

 

***

 

“Is Frigga’s garden safe for me now,” Loki questioned--slipping from a shadow--as Thor exited dinner, into an empty hall. He didn’t startle, at this century of his life he’d come to expect Loki’s fondness for fear, and he refused to give any amount of that to Loki. 

 

“When I end the resistance it will be all yours, Loki--I gave my word.” Thor was growing tired of the incessant question. 

 

“How long, Thor?” There was a desperation in Loki, and that was never a good sign. For when Loki was desperate he was dangerous, and so long as his magic was not sealed in the dungeons he could release chaos upon Asgard. “A year, ten, a hundred? How long will this war wage? You speak to your son of it ending on the morrow, but I know you, Odinson. I know your tells--the truth is the end is not in sight.” 

 

“What is a hundred years to you, Loki, but an instant?” Thor released a sigh as he began to walk away, tired from the day’s battle and needing his chambers, but Loki would give him no reprieve as he followed. 

 

“I want Frigga restored, Thor--you should want that, too, her presence would calm th-” Thor did not let him finish as he shoved Loki into one of the many columns in the hall. 

 

“Do not presume to know what I want, Loki--what I want is to have Frigga restored and your tricks sealed away in the dungeons. I want to go back to the time of our youth and undo the evil in you so that you could’ve been there--to stop the Elves from killing my mother.” Loki would not give Thor his eyes, and with a frustrated sound Thor released him. “I tire of these arguments, Loki. Now, I shall take my leave of you--for you are far more tiring than the battles I’ve fought.” 

 

The laugh that left Loki sounded sharp and almost vulnerable, “I shall be sure to keep this memory dear, Thor, when I rot in the dungeons.” Thor didn’t face him, he squared his shoulders and left Loki to his tortured desires. 

 

***

 

Sif screamed and snatched a bowl from the healer, then threw it against the wall. “Water will make me no more comfortable, woman! Fetch me Fandral--I would remove his balls from his body!” 

 

“Really, Sif,” Loki simpered from by the arched window--where he looked the picture of arrogant perfection, “I thought you always said you wanted a hall full of children; enough to have an army, if I recall your words correctly.” She did not relish the sight of Loki’s casual form leaning against the stone. 

 

“Leave me, foul beast, I would not have you near when my baby is born.” Another awful pain tore across her lower back, and Sif grit her teeth through the prolonged cramp. 

 

“I was present for the last child you bore,” Loki reminded her with a bored drawl, inspecting his nails. As if her pain was but a boring thing to behold.  

 

“Necessity, not preference,” Sif barked, and growled at another healer who tried to help her sit up, to assume the position best for birth. When she threatened to knife the poor old woman Loki shook his head.

 

“Leave us, Lady Sigyn, I will help her into the position, you fetch clean water.” Sigyn did not fight Loki, she bowed in respect to him, ignoring Sif entirely, before she scuttled from the room. 

 

“Touch me, Loki, and I will remove your hands from your body.” Fear gripped her at the suggestion; what evils would he try to bring her child? 

 

He appeared amused as he stalked closer, and Sif remembered the funny boy from her youth. They had been polite to one another, once upon a lifetime ago, but there was too much bad blood between them now for there to be an inkling of kindness in her for this monster. The first touch of his cool hand to her lower back had her screaming, in rage, until she noticed the pains of labor left her entirely. 

 

“What curse would you place upon my innocent babe,” Sif demanded, suspicious. 

 

Loki rolled his eyes, openly mocking her, “My first child caused me great pain--the others Frigga eased me through with touch. Though she still allowed me to suffer. Punishment for my stupidity, I imagine. However, I know she would not allow you to suffer, Lady Sif and since Frigga cannot be here I shall offer my own hand.” 

 

“I will cut it off,” Sif warned and Loki snorted; he was hardly intimidated.

 

“Then you cut it off, but do it after the child comes. I grow tired of your bitching.” 

 

When Lady Sigyn returned Sif was in a much better mood and focused on pushing her child into the world--rather than focusing on how she would exact revenge upon the child’s idiot father. 

 

***

 

Balthor scrunched his nose up at the child Thor held in his arm. “Was I that wrinkly and red,” he demanded of Loki while Fandral chuckled at the bluntness of the question. 

 

“Ask Odin, I don’t remember--it’s been so long ago,” Loki lied, and Balthor narrowed his gaze in Loki’s direction. 

 

“All babies are wrinkly and red, save for Loki--he was smooth and white like fresh fallen snow,” Thor recalled with a nostalgic smile, and then his grin grew--near splitting his face--when the little girl in his arms opened her eyes. “Poor thing looks of Fandral, Sif--if she is lucky she will grow to possess your beauty when she ages.” 

 

Fandral looked affronted when he smacked Thor upon the arm, “I am a beaut, my friend--my beauty is far more legendary than that of my lady’s.” 

 

Sif hit him for his insult, and smiled when Balthor touched her daughter’s hand. “The boy will need siblings, Thor,” she spoke with genuine affection for Balthor--they all loved him, truly--and settled a hand upon Balthor’s head when she continued, “Asgard will need a queen, and you should have more than one heir.” 

 

Loki--to everyone’s obvious surprise--agreed, “You will need a legitimate heir--the bastard child of an Asgardian enemy will not be welcomed.” He smiled at Balthor, true love in his gaze as he approached and pressed his fingers through Balthor’s golden hair. “Besides, I’m quite fond of this one. I would prefer to keep him for myself.” 

 

Thor frowned, but didn’t speak when he saw how happy Loki’s words made Balthor. Balthor who had grown visibly agitated when Sif poised the suggestion of other heirs.  He looked back upon the child held in the crook of his arm and smiled again, “I would love more children, but I am content with the one I have, and I am content without a queen.” After a brief consideration, Thor added, “And Asgard shall have her queen returned when Loki returns Frigga unto us.” 

 

***

 

“I will be a man soon, or so Mother says,” Balthor confided to Thor. On a rare day when Thor had a short reprieve from the constants of battle. The upheaval of the realms was less thrilling to him now than it had been in his youth. Even after Loki’s short rule over Asgard, during Thor’s banishment, the realms were not so hard to return to peace. This was different Thor well knew; the people had lost faith in his family. His family who--he heard slanders whisper--were more concerned for their own heart’s desires than they were from the nine realms. It was disconcerting, the discord that ran rampant through Thor’s own halls. 

 

Thor snorted in reply, at long last, to Balthor’s words as he summoned one of the servants to bring him a drink. Balthor’s eyes were clear when Thor looked up from his war hewn hands and held Balthor’s gaze. “Age does not make a man, my son.” 

 

“Does war make men, then,” it was the sort of question Loki would ask, but it lacked the bite of Loki’s usual tone. Rather it was curious and contemplative where Loki would have been angry and defensive. 

 

With a gentle smile Thor replied, “No, war does not make men.” He stood, as he accepted his drink from the servant’s tray, and descended the steps of his throne to clap Balthor on the shoulder, “Wisdom, humility, patience, these are a few of the things that make a man.” 

 

“Cleverness?” Balthor’s smile was soft.

 

Thor grinned in return, “Yes, cleverness, too.” 

 

“Like the tricks Mother teaches?” His smile grew brighter as he voiced the question.

 

Thor frowned, his gaze going immediately to the few listening servants in the halls. “Leave us,” he commanded; they went with haste and no protest. Lifting Balthor’s chin Thor spoke in a low tone, “Does your mother teach you tricks?” 

 

Sensing something in Thor’s demeanor, Balthor was slow with his reply, “Yes, he does.” 

 

***

 

“Loki,” Thor barked, his teeth gleaming in the flicker of lights that sparkled around Loki’s chamber and Loki knew that there was trouble when he noticed the set of Thor’s jaw. With a wave of his arm, Loki returned the heavy tome he was reading to it’s place upon his marbled shelf while he gave his brother a casual smirk. 

 

“To what do I owe this honor, Thor? It is such a delight to hold a king within my chamber,” then with a scandalized tone added, “Though I do hope you didn’t draw attention to this clandestine meeting. It wouldn’t do to have more whispers flitting about the halls.” 

 

That damnable hammer was a weight at Loki’s throat, not crushing but its warning was clear as Thor hissed against his face--spittle damp against Loki’s hairless cheek. “You teach my son tricks, Loki, and I want to know why.” 

 

His rage was always beneath the surface, and like that damned green monster it was easily poked into action. Loki’s seidr propelled Thor away from him, across the room--where he toppled into Loki’s precious scrolls, but he took little notice as he hissed at Thor. “He is my son as much as yours, and I will teach him what tricks I please!” 

 

“You would teach him evil, and bring to my door more treachery!” 

 

“Why exactly would I do that,” Loki demanded, offended at the very notion. 

 

“Because you are chaos, and live to torment me,” Thor’s tone was weary. 

 

Taking a step away from Thor’s hold, Loki summoned the ice to his hands and launched thick shards of it into Thor--nowhere vital, but his hits caused hurts. “I take no delight in your torment, brother, not until Frigga is returned. I will give you no ragnaroks, I will bring you no chaos until I have known your mother’s forgiveness.” 

 

Thor twitched, pulling the shards of Loki’s ice from his bloodied bicep, and asked--in a near broken tone, “Why do you teach Balthor tricks? I worry for what the people will say if you teach him the woman’s art.” 

 

It was Loki’s turn to twitch, and he hissed as his eyes blazed with fury, “I would teach him the woman’s art your mother taught to me, when she held me to her breast and whispered that I was loved. I would share that love with my child, no matter what simpleton might whisper.” He threw a gilded goblet at Thor, “You worry for your reputation, brother, if you are so worried mayhaps you should look for yourself a bride--fuck her full of heirs, and let this bastard we share be forgotten in the shadows of your hall.” 

 

When Thor charged for him Loki expected him, and was gone in a glittering fog of magic. Thor’s rageful scream only filled him with a scant amount of satisfaction. 

 

***

 

“Again,” Thor commanded, broad arms crossed as he watched Balthor spar in the training yard. 

 

Fandral appeared hesitant, and Thor took the sword from his hand to take over himself. “His fifteenth winter approaches, old friend, and he will be ready to fight when it arrives.” Then at Balthor, he said, “Give me your worst, boy.” Perhaps his tone was too loud, too full of rage, but he was still angry with Loki. 

 

The clang of metal on metal lasted only a few moments, before Thor caught Balthor by surprise and had him on his back--with the tip of his borrowed sword at the child’s throat. “Again,” Thor growled, “And this time I expect you to spill my blood.” 

 

“Thor,” Sif started, but his intimidating glare put her silent. 

 

When he faced Thor again Balthor wore a determined kind of expression, his grip on his blade’s handle seemed surer and Thor tightened his own hold as he ran again for his son. This time Balthor showed him one of Loki’s tricks. He melted before Thor, in a glittering rain of golden sparks, as Thor’s sword went through him. He was not behind Thor as Thor had expected, rather he came from the blind spot a little to the side and back of Thor’s left. Thor saw him in time, and swung the blade around, intent on hitting him in the shoulder, but Balthor was swift. Ducking quickly and drawing up a hidden dagger that he hit against Thor’s side. 

 

There was no blood, but he cut deep enough to leave a mark in the leather training vest Thor wore. 

 

Balthor seemed proud of himself, but something in Thor’s grimace stole his smile of delight and Thor felt like he broke something in his son when he saw the way he deflated. He thought of Father, then, of the way Loki deflated--through the centuries--when he saw Father’s lack of mirth or pride when in the face of Loki’s talents. A glance around showed Thor that none of his friends showed any hint of disgust or distrust at Balthor’s tricks. Rather they appeared impressed, as they might once have done with Loki if the world had been a different place.  

 

Swallowing his pride, Thor strode closer, and with a smile said, “Perhaps your magic is useful, but I will require you to strike me without it now. For in this ring, with me, you will hone your craft of warfare, with Loki you will sharpen your wit.” 

 

***

 

“What was my mother like in youth,” Balthor asked of Sif one afternoon. Since the birth of her children Thor had commanded her stay behind more and more as the wars waged on. Between their own battles here and the strife in the other realms there were many a night Sif spent cold as Fandral followed Thor to set things right. 

 

“Wild,” Sif replied, as she set the edge of her blade to the whetstone. She hated being here, left to the tasks of life while the men went to save their home. Sif wanted to save them, too, this was her right. She was as good a warrior as any, better than most, in fact, and here she was regulated to minding the children and sharpening the swords. Like some frail damsel, and she’d be damned before she’d allow any to regard her as such.

 

“In what way,” she glanced up at Balthor’s curious tone--grateful for the distraction he gave her morose thoughts. 

 

“You’ve heard what they call him, yes? Trickster, chaos, destroyer of peace--Loki was not always so awful. Once upon a time his tricks were amusing rather than sinister.” Sif had once thought him clever, before cruelty stole what little love she had for Loki. 

 

“What changed him?” Balthor’s eyes were set with a hint of sorrow, and Sif wanted to lie to him; give him the illusions of his mother. Balthor was no different than other children in the fact that he desperately clung to the illusions of his parents; no child wanted to know that their mother was the epitome of sinister. 

 

“Rage, jealousy...who knows. It’s been so long I can scarcely recall what Loki was like before now.” Yet, Sif knew well that she owed him truth. 

 

She could see the burning question in Balthor’s vivid eyes. They were blue like Thor’s, and reminded Sif of the boy she knew so well in youth. The one who had a heart full of gold; Balthor was no less loving than his father. No less taken with the task of trying to bring happiness to those he deeply loved. And like Thor, Balthor loved Loki the most. “Did my mother love my father?” 

 

Sif wanted to say ‘no’, she wanted to believe that there was no love in Loki’s heart, but that would be a lie. “I believe so.” For why else would Loki torment Thor so; even if Loki loved, his love was twisted.

 

“Does Mother love him now?” Often times, Sif pondered over very same question--does Loki still love Thor? 

 

With a gentle laugh Sif admitted, “That is a question I cannot answer.” 

 

***

 

Odin felt weary as he looked out across the battles from his chamber window. Thor’s lightning a scatter across the sky.  His smile was grim as he watched the thick veins of light that moved over the darkened heavens. “Oh my son,” he whispered at the image before him, “I wish these wars were ended.” 

 

“Grandfather,” Balthor’s voice was a welcome sound in the otherwise harrowing silence and tense mood of his thoughts. 

 

“Come, child, tell me what weighs heavy on your mind.” He would take any distraction from his morose thoughts; the ones that strayed towards Frigga more often than not these days. 

 

“I wish to know of my parents.” 

 

Odin had sensed as much when Balthor started to linger in the libraries, running his long fingers over the spines of ancient texts; searching for the answers that are not freely given in these halls of half-truths. When he turned to face his grandson Odin saw the face of his firstborn. Baldr had looked as Thor looked, but he had never known more than that early stages of manhood; had never known the mature years as Thor knew them now. He would wear no wrinkles, would wear no white hairs, and his songs would only remain as those few--the ones that were sung less and less as the centuries wore on. 

 

Balthor would wear the wrinkles and white hairs Baldr would never know--Odin promised this to himself when he allowed Loki to create a body for Baldr’s soul. Norns forgive him, but he had to know that Frigga could be recreated. He saw now that Baldr had been reborn, but that he would not be the same boy Odin knew. He was not of Odin and Frigga, now he was Thor and Loki, but his soul and his manners were that of Baldr. If nothing else, if they could not restore Frigga, if peace never came, then they would at least have this young man. 

 

“Your parents were...it is hard to say,” Odin began with a heavy sigh. “Thor,” beyond the window, as if he could hear his name, there was a rumble of thunder. “Thor was always an outright difficult child. He was bad with authority, and worse yet he was just like I was in youth.” With a chuckle Odin beckoned Balthor sit before him on the soft pale cushion at his feet. “I, too, once raced for wars I had no right to wage.” 

 

Balthor sat, enraptured, as Odin told him of the Jotunheim. Of the battle Thor would seek, and the king that Loki would slay over Odin’s sleeping body. “Your mother’s intentions were not pure. Loki sought to destroy all that he was so that he could lay waste to the truth of where he came from.” 

 

“Why?” Balthor’s face was full of sorrow over the very idea of Loki hating his heritage; over Loki hating himself. 

 

“In Asgard, after the great war with the Frost Giants the stories mothers told the babes at their breasts were of the monsters I forced to kneel. They made them more horrid than they truly were; a constant fear in the darkness of our children’s minds. Most of Loki’s youth was spent hearing tales of these monsters, and when he knew he was born of them he sought to undo that. To make himself whole again.” It hurt Odin to admit, but he had turned a blind eye to the slow ascent toward that self hatred in Loki. 

 

“Did killing Laufey make it better for Mother?” Balthor appeared concerned for Loki. 

 

“Killing Laufey did not make Loki better. Loki only grew more desperate, and since then he and Thor have been trapped in a war in which I see no end in sight.” 

 

As if on cue, Loki entered the chambers, angry winds whipping about him as he threw open Odin’s doors. “He left me again, with no word! I grow tired of waiting for Thor and his constant war to end.” 

 

“See, child, they are at war even now,” Odin whispered to Balthor as he stood from his seat. “Loki, my child,” he said louder for the benefit of his son, “I cannot undo your brother’s order.” 

 

***

 

Balthor was not silent, his footsteps loud and obnoxious as Thor’s, when he followed Loki through the halls. Finally, growing tired of his conspicuousness, Loki turned with a raised brow. Balthor had the graces to flush and appear embarrassed by being caught. 

 

“Did you require me, child,” Loki crossed his arms and waited as Balthor stumbled, hastily, forward. 

 

“Would you tell me of Frigga, Mother?” 

 

A gentle expression settled over Loki and he nodded his head in the direction he was heading, an obvious invitation to Balthor. 

 

Frigga’s gardens were unchanged, even as Asgard’s lands were war ravaged. Her lingering creations were untouched, and Loki smiled despite himself as Balthor followed him through her meadow. He gestured the boy forward, and directed him to sit in the soft, green fields. 

 

“All you see here is the work of Frigga,” Loki whispered as he took to the ground beside Balthor. “Long ago, centuries before I was even a thought in the universe, Bor, Odin’s father, was at war with Vanaheim. Some slight made by the king Njord during a feast about Bor’s queen Bestla, if my memory recalls the story correctly.” Balthor watched Loki speak with rapt attention, as he had when he was an infant and Loki wondered, briefly, when that wonder would leave and benevolence would replace the twinkle of Balthor’s blue eyes. Only the Norns could know, and with that dread settled into his stomach Loki swallowed as he continued his tale. “A young Odin, strapping handsome lad, followed his father to war. One evening, wounded, Odin moved to safety--under the cover of darkness and thick trees. It is there he met a Vanir lady. Even in the Vanaheim Odin was well known, his image a whisper of descriptions through the taverns and towns. Knowing with whom she was dealing the gentle lady took him deeper into the darkness to heal him with seidr.” Balthor ran his hands through the thick grass, spreading out onto his stomach, soaking in the warmth of the sun, as he listened. “Near fifteen hundred years after the beginning of the war, both queens of Asgard and Vanaheim had grown weary of the violence. As such they begged their kings to meet, and seek an alliance. When they came together, Odin was at his father’s side as Njord’s children were by his. The twins Freya and Freyr and his youngest daughter Frigga--the girl Odin had met in a cover of darkness. Their love nearly started another war, but when Odin took to the knee and begged for Frigga as his queen not even the Norns could’ve said no to such a gaze as his. And so there was peace. For a time.” 

 

Loki gestured to the wall around the world, in the distance, and said, “Odin nearly renewed the war between Vanaheim and Asgard when he commissioned that wall to be built. Drunkenly, he’d promised any reward to the nameless stonemason--if he could complete the wall in an Asgardian year. This was after the war with Jotunheim, and to keep the giants from gaining easy access into Asgard--where they might seek retribution--Odin commissioned of this stonemason a wall. The stonemason was nearly done with the wall, thanks to the help of his centaur, Svadilfari. So Odin, having given his word, went to the stonemason and asked what he’d like for his work.” 

 

Loki smirked as he remembered the way Odin’s steps were deafening sounds in the halls after his meeting with the builder, of whose name Loki easily forgot. It had been one of the more interesting days of Loki’s youth. Odin red faced with fury as he demanded a meeting of his council. Loki and Thor, learning the art of the throne then, had been permitted to join. Freya, their aunt, and titled queen over Odin’s female army--the Valkyries--was furious when Odin relayed the demands of their strange builder to the room. 

 

“I will lie with no man of such a station,” she’d all but screamed. Her yellow hair had whipped around her like spun wheat. 

 

“But you would lie with that wretch you call a brother, would you?” Loki remembered whispering with wicked delight, which drew her angry golden gaze upon him. Only she’d caught his words, and her dagger was sharp at his side when she whispered against his ear. 

 

“You will fix this, child--Frigga teaches you tricks. I suggest you use them to undo this mess--for if you do not I will spill your tainted blood across the nine realms.” Her dagger had pressed closer when she added, “And to speak ill of my love for my brother will also cause you to meet such a fate--keep your tongue still, child, for I see similar desires in you.” 

 

Loki had fixed it--easily enough. Svadilfari was hard to miss, and harder yet to evade were his dark, lustful eyes. Seduction had been a mere trifle for Loki--really he hadn’t even tried and Svadilfari promised to slow the work for two nights a week with Loki, until the wall had finished. Without hesitation Loki agreed. 

 

When the progression of the wall slowed, Freya--who’d never liked him--said, “I will grant you one favor in the future, without question.” 

 

“Mother,” Balthor’s voice cut through his silence and Loki shook himself from the memories. “What happened?”  

 

“I saved a vile Valkyrie queen from a marriage with a nameless stonemason, Balthor, and do you know what she granted me in return?” Loki’s words were low as his eyes turned to meet Balthor’s. 

 

“No,” Balthor said, eyes confused. 

 

“She granted me a favor--one I intend to use this day.” 

 

Frigga’s spinning wheel was large when it appeared suddenly in the field, and Loki took from his belt his dagger, grabbing Balthor’s arm he asked, “Do you trust me, child?” Without hesitation Balthor nodded, and Loki smiled, “This will only hurt for a moment.” 

 

***

 

Fandral noticed it before the others. The golden winged horses carrying the vicious female guardians of the nine realms. He took a blow to the side as he watched them move, in the far distance, toward Frigga’s garden. “Thor,” he shouted over the battle, “Thor!” 

 

After Thor beat another man into submission he turned, with an irritated expression to see what Fandral needed at such a time. While Fandral cut his way through another man he shouted, “Valkyries, Frigga’s garden!” 

 

“Damned, Loki,” Thor murmured darkly. Sif, at his side, urged him away. 

 

“We have this--go see what schemes the serpent concocts!” 

 

Whirling Mjolnir above him Thor rose, and urged his trusted hammer faster when he thought of how Balthor was alone with Loki. 

 

When his feet hit the ground, in his mother’s precious garden, Thor saw Loki raising a blade to Balthor and his voice carried through the air like the first crack of thunder in a storm. “NO! LOKI!”

 

The spinning wheel was going as Loki cut through Balthor’s palm, “All life requires blood,” he murmured loud enough for Thor to hear. Once Loki’d smeared all he needed upon the curve of the wheel, he used the same dagger to cut a few strands of Balthor’s golden hair. Threading it into the spindle Loki sat at the distaff, shrouded in coarse elements, and began to weave--as Frigga had once showed him. A talent Thor had once mocked. 

 

Thor angrily stomped across the ground, intent on retrieving Balthor, but Freya’s appearance halted him. 

 

“You will not be permitted entry to this garden until the work is done.”

“Step aside, I am your king,” Thor commanded, spittle flying from his mouth with the force of his words. 

 

“Even a king cannot order me to retract my word--that is my honor and I stand behind it,” Freya said, her voice somber as she raised a hand commanding her staff into it. “So either you wait or you battle the Valkyrie--choose, Odinson.” 

 

Thor’s smirk was one he’d perfected through years of sneering in the face of his enemies, and he found it often riled his opponent up as it did now. “You must think me a fool, Valkyrie, I shall yield to no one.” Mjolnir was buzzing in his hand and Freya narrowed golden eyes at him. 

 

“So be it, boy--it is your funeral.” 

 

A shrill call left her pale throat and soon a horde of women, armored in gold, fell to the ground with an ominous thump. Thor chuckled, “Shall we dance, ladies?” 

 

A dark-skinned, golden eyed, woman charged him first. Her sword swifter than even Sif’s and her gaze fierce. She fought with the grace of a dancer and the ease of a well practiced warrior. Her blows forced him back, and Thor felt a familiar surge of joy rush up at the promise of a good fight before he began charging. She didn’t stumble, even over the suddenness of his charge, and laughed when she met him easily, blow for blow. 

 

***

 

Loki dared not to look behind him. His work was quick, but sure and steady, as he pulled beauty from the fields, fragrance from the flowers, radiance from the stars. He’d had the design in mind for years now--had completed it before Odin and Loki had begun developing the plan to storm Helheim--it was embedded into his brain, but even so Loki could not afford to rush any of it or make a mistake. Thor sounded close, and he’d only had Frigga’s head complete. Her hair a mix of the wheat and the strands Balthor had provided. Her eyes the brightest stars, lips the pale pink petals of roses, her teeth precious pearls, and her skin the pale sands Loki crushed to fine dust--his hand shook as he began her body.

If Thor managed to interrupt him now the body might never become complete. The fine silk he worked with knitted the outline of her form, and once he’d had that completed Loki used the powdered dust to create a supple clay. Thor sounded closer yet, and Loki worked faster, his magic aiding him with more speed. 

 

He was down to her final toe, at last, almost completing it when Thor yanked him from the spindle. 

 

“You,” blood hit against his cheek as Thor spat at him--battered as if the Valkyries had given a  good fight, but even they could not halt the mighty Thor. “You defy the word of your king--I gave my word that Frigga would be restored after my final battle, Loki!” 

 

Loki looked upon Thor with a drawn expression, “Did you truly believe that I would listen to you, or that I would see you as _my_ king?” Then, before Thor could kill him, he shouted to Balthor, “Open the chest, do it now!” 

 

The beauty of the soul was one that had shocked Loki the first time he’d seen it--all bright white light, with glittering pieces of the person within--and now he found it no less aweinspiring. Frigga’s created form breathed the particles in, and it moved with the force of the power of her soul. The moment filled Loki with immense hope, and even Thor slacked his hold of Loki’s tunic to look upon Frigga’s form with stunned eyes. 

 

It faded, his hope, when Loki noticed that her star like eyes remained vacant, and that was when Odin appeared. His anguish palpable as he approached. “Frigga,” he tried, but she remained unmoved, and Thor dropped Loki to join his father. 

 

“Mother,” his shout shook the field, “Mother!” In the distance lightning scattered across the heavens. 

 

“What trick is this, Loki?” Thor demanded when she stayed vacant and only a puppet of the woman they all wanted back desperately. 

 

Thor advanced upon Loki, anger pulsing in his veins, and he turned a deaf ear to Balthor when Balthor begged him not to harm Loki. At this century, Thor was tired of allowing Loki his life--had told Loki so many times before. Yet, as he lifted Loki by his green tunic--Mjolnir raised to strike, a familiar melodious voice moved through the field. “Loki?” Frigga questioned, and Mjolnir fell, hard, to Thor’s side. 

 

***

 

Balthor watched, wide-eyed, as the wheat turned to soft hair, the petals to plush lips, the stars to vivid blue eyes, the pearls to bright teeth, and the clay to velveteen skin. The queen Frigga stared down at her incompleted small toe, wiggling the half digit with a smile, “I see I am a little incomplete.” 

 

Odin, voice choked with grief and happiness, said, “You are perfect--I would have you pockmarked and withered just as soon as I would have you as you are now.” 

 

“So dramatic,” Frigga murmured as she accepted a pale gown from the hand of a battle ravaged Freya. Balthor startled when she stepped up to him, and gazed at him with a full smile, “What are you called, young one?” 

 

“Balthor, Queen Frigga,” he murmured and watched as her gaze slid to Thor briefly before snapping to Loki. 

 

“Balthor,” she tested when she grasped his hands.  “You may call me Grandmother, and I should like to call you Grandson.” He didn’t ask permission as he threw himself into her soft fragrant arms. 

 

***

 

Thor sat, moons later, in the hall as merriment continued over their celebrated return of Frigga. Still, despite what Loki had done, Thor had a punishment to fulfill. It weighed heavily upon him as he watched Loki sit beside Frigga with a bright smile. The smile Thor hadn’t seen in thousands of years. He drank his mead with a heavy heart, and gave tight smiles when his people clapped him on the shoulder. 

 

Odin noticed Thor’s strife, and followed him out onto a veranda when Thor excused himself. 

 

“You’ve grown silent, Thor, your grief plain for all to see," Odin confided, and Thor’s chortle was near humorless. 

 

“Am I that transparent, Father?” 

 

“Aye, Thor, you are.” Odin joined him in staring across Asgard--both enraptured with her slowly returning beauty. Workers were absent from the buildings that were being rebuilt, but even in the night they could see Asgard’s future in the restoration. “Loki weighs heavy upon your mind, does he not?” 

 

“He does,” Thor rested his short beard against his palms, “I keep thinking about how he must serve for those lives he took on Midgard, and then I think of what he’s done these past years--not to mention the fact he mothered my child--and I find myself conflicted.” He turned his glance upon Odin, and he looked like a lost boy when he whispered, “What would you do, Father?” 

 

Odin released a weary sigh, “That burden no longer falls to me, Thor, and I am afraid my personal feelings would serve you no justice.” He placed a calming hand on Thor’s shoulder, “Do what you know in your heart to be right, son. Near a millenia ago I would’ve told you to throw him in the dungeon and never release him, but now my heart is moved to mercy for those who love him--and that is not justice.” 

 

“Thank you, Father,” Thor muttered gruffly--still nowhere near his answer. 

 

***

 

Loki pressed a gentle hand against Balthor’s cheek that night after dinner, chuckling at the prickly beginnings of a beard he felt there. He’d seen Odin follow Thor and he knew what was coming--soon his freedom would be forfeit, and oddly Loki did not mind. He knew in the beginning that this would not be a restoration of grace. This was only a small road on his long journey of penance. He knew he’d done wrong by Midgard. Did he feel guilty about it? No, not in the slightest, but Loki well knew that he should pay for his crimes. It would be Balthor who suffered if he did not, and he owed it to Frigga to toil away in a cell. 

 

“Sweet boy,” he whispered as he sat with Balthor on the bed, “Promise me, that you will never doubt my love for you.” 

 

“I swear, Mother,” Balthor said solemnly, his still boyish, but growing, hand covered the back of  Loki’s, “Do you also swear to always remember I love you?”

 

His smile was small--private--and only for Balthor, “I do so swear.” Then with a more somber expression he added, “Do not blame Thor for what he must do, please, and know that he loves you, too. However, he is burdened by a crown, and should he be stupid enough to not take a queen that burden will fall to you.” Loki drew Balthor closer, something he’d rarely done in the past and pressed his nose into his hair. He smelled of youth, sunshine, sweat, and boy. Loki wanted to commit it to memory for always. “Remember, my child, if you should wear the crown never forget that a king cannot rule with only his heart, nor his hatred, he must rule with his head. Do not fall blind to your own faults, know them, intimately, for if you do not one may use them against you.” 

 

“Mother,” Balthor questioned when Loki laid beside him, “Are you unwell?” 

 

“No, child, just foolishly sentimental,” Loki chuckled. He brushed his fingers through Balthor’s soft hair, and told him all the fables he could remember until Balthor fell asleep against his side. His breaths even and trusting despite the presence of such evil at his side. 

 

Loki swallowed around the tightness in his throat, and blinked away the moisture in his eyes as he watched Balthor settle against his pillows. “A sentimental fool, indeed,” he chuckled to himself before he pressed a brief kiss to Balthor’s forehead. 

 

***

 

Thor had the decision taken from his hands when Loki came to him in his chamber. “Loki?” His brow furrowed as he stood from where he’d been sitting, “Why have you come?” 

 

Loki chuckled in response to the dark look Thor wore, “Always so distrusting, Thor. I have not come to seduce you or to slaughter you in sleep.” 

 

“Comforting,” Thor muttered as he returned to his seat, “For what have you come then? If not my throat or my cock?” 

 

The laughter that tumbled from Loki’s slim throat was genuine and Thor smiled when he heard the sound. It had been a long time since Loki laughed so freely, and even Loki’s feet in Thor’s lap--after he’d settled in a seat across from Thor--could not sour his mood. 

 

“Well, my king,” Loki purred and Thor rolled his eyes, shoving at his feet--pulling another laugh from Loki. “I have come with a request.” 

 

Thor released a deep breath, and waited, patiently, for Loki to speak. “Give it to me, then,” Thor prompted when it seemed Loki would not be forthcoming.

 

“I ask that you return me to my cell.” 

 

That startled Thor. “What?” 

 

“I will take the decision from you, and I will go in peace...I should serve out my sentence in that hole.” With an almost vulnerable expression, Loki added, “I only ask that you are good to Balthor, whether you marry and make other children--I ask that you love him.” 

 

“But of course I will love him, Loki.” With a disdainful glance, Thor added, “Despite not remembering exactly how he came to be--I will love him. Even if he weren’t mine I would love him.” 

 

“Why?” Loki asked, truly baffled and Thor laughed at him. 

 

“Because he is yours.”

“You are truly foolish, brother,” Loki swept a cool glance about the chamber, his green eyes lingering on a treasure of Thor’s from childhood. “You kept that?” 

 

Thor needn’t have looked to know that Loki’s eye had fixated on the woven tapestry that depicted Thor’s first march into battle. A tapestry Loki had woven over the course of a Midgardian year. Within the fine fabric was Thor with Mjolnir raised over him as lightning flashed golden over a field of Thor’s slain enemies. Even now, thousands of years later, the tapestry rippled with Loki’s magic, sparkling in the lightning twirling around Mjolnir. Loki touched a hand to the surface, and with an unreadable expression said, “I thought you’d long since removed me from your heart.” 

 

“So had I,” Thor wore a tired expression. 

 

Loki sat in contemplative silence, his long white fingers following across Thor’s cabinet, tracing trinkets that have sat collecting dust. Thor let him have his silence; youthful battles taught Thor that Loki was less prone to violence when Thor allowed him his space. The stars had shifted in the sky, and dawn was approaching when Loki finally spoke. “Would you remove me if you knew what evil I had done to create your son?” 

 

Thor’s brow crinkled. “Tell me the evil, and then I will decide.” 

 

Wide-eyed and vulnerable--in a way Thor had only seen once before--Loki moved across the room. Stood at Thor’s window where he watched as the dawn began to break out across the sky, spilling red light on the surface of the sea they could spot in the distance. “I went through a great many troubles to make your son.” 

 

In silence Thor waited, moving closer to Loki as Loki held him captive with the low cadence of his voice. “I approached the king of Helheim a lifetime ago, now. Long before that time we battled here. I sought more than approval, you know, I sought to be welcome and loved.” 

 

“Loki-,” Thor started, to convey to him that he was loved. By Father, by Mother, but most of all by Thor. He could recall battles in youth he had sought out in Loki’s honor. Thor would seek no war for any other; had never to his knowledge killed for a person other than Loki. He had indeed sought fights for his own honor, for Mother’s, and Father’s too...but his battles for Loki always ended with someone’s death. 

 

His brother hissed for him to shut up, “I know, Thor, I know what you will say--save it.” Then crossing his arms Loki said, “I sought him for the soul of Baldr, the beloved child I never had the pleasure of meeting and the one you knew for only a short breath of life. I thought if I restored him to Mother my sins--the ones bestowed upon me in birth--would be forgiven. Then, perhaps, my differences could be forgotten.” 

 

***

 

Loki did not enjoy the way Thor watched him, eyes piercing as Loki recounted his tale. The one he’d kept buried from all. Even Odin had never heard the full extent of Loki’s humiliation. There was a reason there could be no love in his heart of Hel or Fenrir or Jörmungandr. Samgangr had been unkind with Loki’s body. Had left scars upon him, and he’d ached for days. 

 

He could still feel the whisper, against his ear, “Scream for me, Loki of Asgard--I will treat this as a sacrifice.” 

 

Thor’s face was dark as Loki spoke of that time, “I promised to give Illska her beloved babe, and Samgangr wanted to taste what the guards spoke of. Only, he tasted it many times in my quest to make a child to Illska’s approval.” 

 

With a war roughened hand, Thor lifted his chin--stroking a calloused thumb across Loki’s jaw. “He hurt you.” It was not a question, and Loki averted his eyes. He did not want Thor’s pity. 

 

“It was the price I paid for Mother, and for Father.” Then with an almost soft smile Loki added, “And now, having Balthor, I would do it again.” 

 

Pouring from a flagon of wine for them both, Thor handed Loki a goblet and said, “How is Balthor mine when his soul is that of our parents’ child?” 

 

Loki’s smile was wan as he sat, drinking his fill before he finally responded, “I failed many times with the creation of a body. Father’s horse was easy for the child never lived, and required no soul. In my quest I made more monsters than I’d care to admit. So, for a while I placed it further down the list--invading Midgard was more important after centuries of failure, and I didn’t think about Baldr’s soul until after Mother’s death.” He didn’t dare lift his eyes to Thor’s--Loki was too tired to conceal his hurt, his rage, his everything and he didn’t want to give Thor his weakness. “Originally, for a time, I considered killing Odin. I could have a throne, could be rid of you, and it would be an obstacle free kingdom to do with as I pleased, but the ease of that bored me. And my grief consumed me, so I went to the All Father and I bade him tell me the secrets of creation. So that I might restore Frigga to her home.” With a chuckle he added, “Your father, Thor, for all his power could not craft a body either.” 

 

“What did Father say,” Thor prompted when Loki fell into silence, eyes distant as he remembered his talk with Odin in that lowly hell that was hidden from the eyes of Heimdall. 

 

“He said that creation required blood sacrifice, and that to craft Frigga would mean having the blood of a person with whom she shared kinship.” He gestured slowly with his fingers, “And then I remembered Baldr’s soul. Locked away in a hidden place, and I asked how I should forge a body for him. Father and I well knew you would never be willing to lay down your blood--you had your mortal to live for and we had no idea how much blood the sacrifice would require. Baldr would know that he was not long for this world; he would remember his death, and his life that had ended and he would be willing to restore Frigga.” Loki reclined against Thor’s seat, feeling the warmth that radiated from Thor’s large body beside him and closed his eyes as he remembered. “But Baldr would require a body, and his body would require the blood of kinship.” 

 

Loki had gone, many a time, to Thor’s Midgardian chambers--had stood over his resting brother and his _woman_ watching them as they slept. It would have been so easy. A precise nick and he could steal some, if not all of Thor’s blood. Could create Baldr and sacrifice him for Mother. Two Odinsons gone and Frigga restored. It seemed a wonderful prospect then, but Loki could not take from Thor his life. Much as he hated him then he could not remove Thor from the universe. 

 

No. Loki had another plan to create a body for Baldr. It was too easy to pull Thor into the hidden caverns between realms, and to lure him with magic into believing it was all a dream. He had watched Thor with that woman so many times. In that room. In that bed. He had studied Thor’s face when she touched him, and knew what would please him best. So he drew Thor to him with tricks, and had him in ways Loki would never admit to wanting. When Odin had asked of the visits, Loki pretended it was a chore. He could never tell a soul that he had wanted the burn of Thor within him--the brand of his seed. It was a want he’d felt shame over since he’d first began to notice men. It was the one thing he knew he could never have; he’d watched others, watched the Midgardian, and wondered what made them worthy. So he took what he had always wanted, and continued until he had Thor’s bastard within his womb. 

 

“Why not just bleed me dry and take the blood for both Mother and Baldr?” Thor asked, pulling Loki away from the memory of watching Thor fuck that woman. Drew him away from that remembered jealousy, and when he replied Loki snarled from memory. 

 

“Blood can only be sacrificed once, Thor, whether you use it all or you use it little the blood cannot be used more than once. That is what makes it a sacrifice.” 

 

“So if I died, who would you use then, Loki?” 

 

“Odin,” was his immediate reply. It was a thought that tormented him when Loki threw Thor at Malekith’s feet, in that shadowed realm. The woman beside him had screamed, but even knowing Thor was not harmed Loki’s stomach churned with worry. Now Thor’s looming death plagued his mind. For one day he would die. Whether in battle, or from age, Thor would go to death for they were not gods as the primitive mortals believed. Loki feared Thor’s death, moreso than he feared his own, and from that first breath Frigga took he knew the person he would use should Thor need resurrecting. He had not lied when he told all of Helheim he would return for the souls of those he loved. 

 

“You would not let me rest in Valhalla?” 

 

“No, you will know no rest until I am trapped in the cold night of Helheim.” 

 

Thor ran a hand over Loki’s hair, tipped his head back and with a dangerous glint in his eye said, “You’ve still yet to tell me how my son came to be, Loki.” 

 

***

 

He slammed into Odin’s chambers, startling Mother and his father with his fury. The lightning crackled around him like mad laughter, but Thor did not lessen his grip on his hammer. 

 

“You,” he spat at Father. “You encouraged him.”

 

With a glance at Mother, Odin whispered, “Leave us, my love, I would have a moment alone with Thor.” 

 

Before she left she said, “What of Loki, Thor?” 

 

“Imprisoned for now. Father may well soon join him.” Mother left then, a telling look thrown behind her before she closed the large gilded door as she exited the room. “Tell me why you encouraged Loki to trick me into lying with him.” 

 

“I never encouraged it, Thor,” Odin seemed weary as he ran a wrinkled hand over his white beard.  

 

He snarled at that, “But neither did you discourage it. He made me do things I would never do of my own will.” 

 

Father’s smile was cruel. “Is that so?” 

 

“You doubt my word,” Thor raged.  

 

“I doubt you in this.” With a sigh Father sat, near the window and said, “It is true Loki pulled you into a realm where none could see you. He made your mind weightless as if a dream, but what happened within that dream was what you wanted. Loki could never take you against your will, for you were in control. I made sure of that.” 

 

Thor felt his blood run cold, “What?” 

 

“Was it the mortal woman in your dream Thor? Was it Sif? Was it any maid you’ve ever lusted after?” Father’s eye was knowing, as if the truth was known before Thor admitted that his dreams were never any but Loki. 

 

“Loki tricked you, yes, he did vile, awful, things to make Balthor, yes, but he did not make you see him. That was your own lust. The things you did to him, the person you saw him as, those were your own wants.” With a harsh laugh Father added, “Even now, Thor, he will not allow himself the truth of your desires.” 

 

***

 

Balthor had grown into a handsome young man, broad and tall like Thor--with only Loki’s tricks serving as a reminder for the mother who bore him into the world. 

 

It made Thor chuckle, and then immediately he felt the guilt that Loki was not there to see. Three Asgardian years of isolation, with only books and mother’s visits, were hardly punishment for what Loki had done, but even still Thor felt he should be there to see Balthor grow. Yet, every time the desire to release Loki reared its head Thor smashed it into submission. Remembering what evils Loki had created in his quest to recreate life Thor knew there could be no hope for Loki. Yet, as he looked upon their son he knew that there must’ve been some glimmer of goodness to Loki; there must have been or how else would Balthor grow to be so wonderful, at the breast of a fiend? 

 

Watching Balthor put Astrid on her back with a sword, Thor sighed and turned away from their training to seek the counsel of his mother.  Perhaps she could ease the warring emotions in his heart. 

 

***

 

“He grows more lovely each day, Loki,” Frigga spoke, to the illusion of Loki that strolled around her chambers. “You should visit him.” 

 

“No,” was Loki’s immediate response, “I am not strong enough to face him...would you want to see me or Thor, knowing you could no longer touch our hair or kiss our foreheads?” 

 

Frigga’s glanced upon her son with a heartbroken tilt to her mouth as she spoke, “I see you now, knowing I can never have those things.” 

 

“I see you now, and know that it is enough that you still live, Mother,” Loki’s eyes were soft, forlorn in a way as he stepped closer, and she recognized his self-hatred--the one he always wore in her presence. She didn’t dare tell him she’d long since forgiven his words that were spoken in rage. Loki would hate himself more if she tried, and so she turned the conversation toward other things. 

 

“And what of Balthor, Loki? Should he not know the same of you?” Frigga often found Balthor wandering her gardens; his sparkling eyes lost, adrift in a sea of thoughts he shared with none. He knew what his mother was, surely, the child was not deaf nor was he a fool and the Aesir were not so kind as to hide their grievances about Loki. War still waged in the outerlands, and the realms were still full of strife. Their love of him would not grow so long as the battles continued. The only love the Aesir had for Loki was that he restored Frigga to them; Frigga’s magic helped to return them to a glimmer of their former selves. She healed the burned fields and tended the wounded and sick. Balthor had helped her in these endeavors; it was rare Thor took him to battle as he was Thor’s only heir. Odin riding in the boy’s stead, and while they were away Frigga shared with Balthor the tricks she had once shared with Loki. He was capable, quick witted, and loving in ways that Frigga had not seen since Baldr; yet, still, there was strife in him, and she would give anything to take that ring of sorrow from around his eyes.  

 

Loki’s smile was strained, but lacked the usual hatred that had hidden in the corners of that mouth years before. “He knows I live. Thor is too honest to keep him in the dark.” That answer was not the one she wanted from her son. Loki was not truthful enough despite the fact he had to know Frigga was not blind to the love he held for his son.  

 

Frigga shook her head with remorse, and took a seat. Loki, in a mockery of normalcy, settled his illusion on the seat beside her. “Why did you save me, Loki?” 

 

Loki pretended to inspect his nails, for a long moment, before he settled on a surprisingly honest answer, “I couldn’t let that be the last expression I saw upon your face. I denied you, because I am stubborn to a fault.” She snorted unable to stop the sound of amusement, and his smile appeared, “You are my mother, Frigga. I know that now--I knew it then, but I was blinded by my other desires.” 

 

“Why did you so desire the throne,” she tried, as she had many times before, and just as he had in the past he evaded the question entirely. 

 

“I think I hear Thor, Mother, I will take my leave of you now.” 

 

Before he’d faded, Frigga spoke to him in a soft tone, “Balthor has another book he wishes to give you; I will send it along tomorrow.” 

 

***

 

Thor stepped into Frigga’s chambers, and watched as the rest of Loki disappeared in a sparkle of green mist. 

 

“Did you do this when Father sat the throne?” Thor inquired with an amused tone. 

 

Her smile was deep and mysterious, like Loki’s, similar to the ocean Odin waxed poetic about some centuries before. “I was a tad more careful when your father sat the throne.” 

 

“Are you saying I am soft?” Thor’s frown appeared, causing a deep furrow between his thick eyebrows. 

 

“No, Thor, I am saying Loki has changed since your father’s reign.” She beckoned him further into her gilded and white marbled rooms, and gestured for him to sit. “Now why do you seek me?” 

 

“I wish to discuss Loki, Mother.” Thor rubbed a war roughened hand across his short beard, and reached for the flagon she had on her table. Pouring them each a drink, before he turned to her, “Now, tell me all you know of him, please.” 

 

***

 

Thor felt no better about Loki months after his discussion with his mother, and felt worse yet when he sat at dinner watching Sif lovingly touch the swell of her stomach. She drank her mead with a sigh, and groaned as she bent at an unattractive and painful looking angle over the table. “Frigga, my queen, would you show mercy and ease me through this with your magic?” 

 

Frigga chuckled, beside Balthor who looked equally terrified and concerned as he looked upon Sif, “There is no remedy for the pains of pregnancy nor birth, silly child.” 

 

Sif looked startled, and jolted up, staring wide eyed at Frigga, “But Loki took my pain, when I bore Dreng. He said you did so for him.” 

 

Frigga appeared delighted, and Thor joined in her laughter as his mother said, “Obviously he lied.” Then she asked, “How did it feel?” 

 

“Cool, like the water of a spring in summer, gentle and refreshing,” Sif seemed unhappy to admit this truth, and that caused Thor to chuckle anew. For that she gave him a glare that would’ve made a lesser warrior run in fright, but it only caused Thor to laugh harder. 

 

“He is Jotunn, perhaps that is some of their magic that we do not understand,” Frigga replied with a sage expression and tone.  

 

Sif appeared rather irritated, “Perhaps I should visit the dungeon to birth this monster--it feels like it will be a giant.” 

 

Fandral, at her side, rolled his eyes before he bit savagely into a large leg of roasted boar, “I should hope not, or the giant who did this to you should come and deal with the tantrums you insist on throwing at me when you’re in pain.” 

 

She hit him in the head with her goblet, “How’s that for a tantrum?” Balthor put his arm in front of Frigga, to shield her, when Sif started getting more violent. Thor didn’t miss the pleased smiles that crinkled at the corners of Mother’s and Father’s eyes. 

 

***

 

Freya attended Balthor’s eighteen-hundredth birthday celebration. She brought him the plume of a raven, and told him she would teach him the magic of shifting his shape if he desired to learn. He took the gift with an awed look and Freya’s smile was a kind, mothering expression Thor had never before seen. She was childless by choice, and Thor knew better than to ask her if she regretted that decision.  He’d seen her lay waste to any who dared question her decision, and one tireless battle with Valkyries was all Thor would ever need in his life. 

 

“One of the few gifts that cretin, Loki, gave this world,” Freya confessed to Thor after a few tankards of mead. Her gaze lingering on Thor’s son as she spoke. 

 

“Ah,” he said with a humored expression, “And what were the others?” As far as Thor could tell there was very little good Loki brought to Asgard. He was reminded of that daily, when men swore they swore at Loki, and all the evils he’d brought to their realm for foolish greed. Thor had learned, in time, that he could not kill his men for speaking their minds about Loki--if he killed every naysayer of Loki’s there would be no people left to rule over.  

 

“Your mother, for one,” Freya snorted, and signalled for another drink. Thor accepted a drink as well from the passing servant girl. “Then there’s the favor he did for me. Centuries ago, in fact, when he was not much younger than that boy of yours,” she nodded in Balthor’s direction--where he was dancing with a fetching blonde girl, and tripping over his feet--a wide smile of delight on his beardless face when she kissed his cheek. “He gave his flower to that centaur in exchange for the wall’s construction to slow.” 

 

Thor jolted, suddenly sober, “What?” He well remembered the construction of the wall. Father had it commissioned when the end of the war with the Jotunheim was close. It was to prevent them from moving into their realm without the assistance of the casket, long after Father had stolen their relic. Mother had not been best pleased with the construction. She said it closed out those who might seek Asgard for sanctuary, and Heimdall could not be responsible for fetching all of those who might need their help. Father, as Thor easily recalled, was much more prideful and angry then so he ignored Mother’s advice. For that he suffered a cold year, Mother refused his touch and it was one of the earliest recounts Thor had of seeing his mother shut his father out. It was when they began training Thor and Loki for different things. Father stole Thor to his side, as his ally, and Mother took Loki for hers. 

 

“Your blasted father was going to have me marry that horrible master of his, if he finished the wall before summer, you remember?” Freya didn’t wait for him to nod, after he came back from his memories she continued on with a grim smile, “And that centaur came to an agreement with Loki--Loki’s body for his cooperation to slow his master’s work.” She snorted, “Never thought the little devil would help me. Whelped the centaur’s bastard and everything...though the poor babe died in the womb; Frigga says he’s never been right since.” She snatched up one of the golden apples from a tray, “I suppose that was a lot of grief for a youngling--he’d already had his heart broken by another and then he lost his bastard before it even breathed.” Thor watched her as she spoke with an almost bored drawl. Here Freya sat spilling secrets Thor only knew as half truths, and she spilled them with the excitement of a person discussing the weather as she downed another tankard of mead. 

 

“Loki loved the centaur?” The idea enraged Thor--some foul beast stealing his brother’s innocence and his heart, only to crush him in the aftermath. If the centaur still lived Thor would slay him now with only a modicum of satisfaction. He would scatter his innards across the realms to serve as a warning to all; a reminder of what befalls those who would do ill towards the house of Odin. 

 

Her stare was judgemental, and piercing, “No, you fool, he loved you.” 

 

Freya’s words served to startle Thor out of his rage, “What?” 

 

The cackle she released was cruel, “Ever wonder why he stole Sif’s golden hair?” 

 

It was a prank of Loki’s Thor had not thought of, nor remembered, until that moment. He saw Luta, Sif’s daughter sitting at Sif’s side, blonde hair like spun gold, and he remembered a time, in youth, when Sif’s hair had been as beautiful. Before Loki stole it away in the night, of course, and when Thor demand he return it to her, Loki said he could only return it to her black. For Asgard had no wheat nor gold to spare for him to weave her hair. Loki had spun her hair from the night, and though it was pretty it was never the same. Sif was never the same, she grew to hate Thor’s brother, and as a result he and Sif grew apart. “Why would he steal Sif’s hair if he loved me?” 

 

“Because you were always admiring her, fool.” Then quieter still, Freya added, “All of Asgard knows Sif was the first woman you bedded, and if all of Asgard knows then Loki certainly is in on the secret.” She gestured at him with her goblet, sloshing her wine over the gilded rim, “Think of it, Odinson, how many others did he torment so--all of Loki’s mischief, to whom was it directed?” 

 

***

 

Thor found Loki lounging on the bed, in his cell, reading a tome from the ever growing stack in the corner. So engrossed was he that he did not immediately look up, and Thor admired the way his teeth caught his bottom lip. Toying with it harder the more engrossed he became. 

 

“Loki,” Thor spoke, but even the loudness of his tone did not startle his brother. 

 

“So, my king, to what do I owe this visit?” His green eyes flitted to the ceiling, and then to Thor, “Isn’t there a name-day celebration you are missing?” 

 

“You remember?” Thor was impressed, there was no way to tell time in this place. Yet, somehow Loki still kept track of the days. 

 

“I am imprisoned, that does not mean I have lost the ability to remember, nor does it mean I have lost my mind.” Loki’s expression was harsh as he snapped his book shut and rose from his resting place. He gave his back to Thor, strolling further from the wall of energy that separated them. 

 

Thor’s lips quirked up into the crooked half-smile that meant he was amused, “Well I am glad you have your wits about you.” 

 

“The same could not be said for you, Thor,” Loki grumbled, then softer--more defenseless--he added, “Why do you seek me this day?” From the set of his shoulders Thor could see the tension and despite all the wrongs Loki had made Thor held fast to the hope that the Loki of his youth was buried in that flesh. 

 

“What if I offered you freedom, on a condition?” Thor ventured at last; his eyes tracking the subtle shifts in Loki’s visage. Searching for the nuances that would expose Loki’s deception and motives. 

 

“I would ask what the condition was,” Loki replied after a thoughtful spell, and Thor sighed wondering for the upteempth time if this was the right decision.

 

***

 

Balthor looked up with a frown from the map the gathered warriors had rolled out across the table, in the room where they strategized their battles. Now it was down to calming Muspelheim, and Father spoke of how long ago, before Bor’s time there was an Asgardian King named  Búri \--the first of their line--who brought the Fire Giants to their submission. They had stayed subdued for centuries; until the balance was upset by Asgard’s recent civil war that led to the war between all the realms. Add that to the lengthy list of reasons the Aesir were not happy with Father and Mother along with Grandfather--though they were more forgiving of Grandfather now that Frigga was restored. 

 

Father’s mouth was a grim line as he studied the map that was yellowed and stained from time. Balthor watched as his long, thick fingers ran over drawn mountain terrain to a dark swirling pit looking mark and when Father glanced up he looked to Grandfather with a frown. “Is this what I think it is?” 

 

Equally grim Grandfather nodded, his wrinkled, knobby fingers going to his thick beard as he spoke, “Molten rivers run at the bottom of their tall sooty mountains that are jagged and scalding to the touch. Where we could wear pelts of fur in our war with the Frost Giants, we cannot touch anything on the surface of Muspelheim--at least not for long periods of time. Our armor melts in minutes, and before then you’re dead from the heat.” 

 

With an expression of surprise, Balthor spoke, “How did Búri defeat them if he was never able to set foot on the ground?” 

 

Thor raised his eyes to Balthor, and stood up from where he was bent over the map, crossing his impressive arms over his chest as he turned to Odin, “Yes, Father, please enlighten us. How do we fight an enemy we cannot meet in battle on their grounds? Would you have us bring this war to Asgard?” 

 

“No,” Odin whispered, “I would have you do as Búri did, all those centuries ago, open the Bifrost upon Muspelheim and wreck it until they are torn asunder.” 

 

“There are innocents there as there are here,” Balthor yelled just as Thor was opening his mouth to--presumably--say the same. 

 

“Normally, I would agree, but while they cannot freely pass into our realm--thanks to the wall, they can converge, off world, with our enemies. They could conspire with them to take us down from the inside. To save their innocents would you sacrifice the innocents of your own people, Balthor?” It was a question to which Balthor had no answer, and so he cast his eyes to the floor. Filled with the feeling of naivety and foolishness, Balthor felt his youth. 

 

At his side a man--Ve, Odin had called him when they first came into the room--smirked. “Your bastard has gone silent and sullen--a trait he learned from his mother, no doubt.” 

 

Before Balthor could unsheath his weapon, and before his father or Odin could strike Ve, there was shot of magic that soared past Balthor. 

 

With a shout Ve pulled a slim black dagger from just above his collarbone--in a spot that was severely close to his throat. As he did so a smooth, luring drawl said, “Careful, Ve, next time I won’t be so kind.” 

 

“Kind,” Ve spat, his face going blotchy and a strange puce color as Mother stepped further into the council room. “You call that kind, you little slut?” 

 

Mother laughed when Thor put Ve down against the top of the table, Mjolnir settled at Ve’s throat as Father hissed at him, “You would mind your words in my presence, Ve, or I would see you dead at my feet.” 

 

“Yes, my king,” Ve all but hissed before Father released his hold on the older man. Mother came to a stop beside Balthor, watching the entire exchange with a thoroughly excited expression.  

 

***

 

“Mother,” Thor heard Balthor breathe as he wrapped Loki’s slighter body in his broad, youthful arms, “Are you supposed to be out of the dungeons?” 

 

“Your father released me,” with an unkind smile thrown at Ve he added, “He has great love for his bastard and thought to free the boy’s mother, you see.” 

 

Ve bristled and Thor gave him a sharp look that subdued whatever words he might have spoken. Instead, Thor said to Loki, who was slowly approaching where Thor stood, “I told you that you could see Balthor after this meeting, Loki. I never said you were allowed into the war room.” 

 

Soft, long fingers spread across Thor’s chest--protected by his usual armor--and Loki’s smile was wide and white as he grinned up at Thor. “But, my love,” he simpered, drawing a frown across Thor’s face, “I thought I was to never be from your sight.” 

 

“Heimdall watches you while I am in my meetings,” Thor growled when Loki stepped closer yet to him, his breath sweet at Thor’s chin, “Now go, before my patience runs thin with you, Loki.” 

 

“Of course,” Loki sighed, his theatrics gone as he pulled away from Thor--his green eyes went to Odin then, and with an unkind tone he said, “I thought you cured of your ways, Odin; thought you’d learned from my mistakes.” When Odin quirked a bushy white eyebrow at him, Loki elaborated, “I thought no good outweighed what was right.” Thor doubted any other than he and Loki could tell that Odin bristled at the words, “You want a great king to sit on the throne of Asgard, and since Thor’s too stupid to fuck another bitch full of his progeny he’s got Balthor--I’d thank you not to ruin him with your words and actions.” 

 

Then with a gentle smile at Balthor, and a kiss to his cheek, Loki said, “You, my son, are wonderful don’t let them change you.” With that said Loki was gone, amid a whirl of flowing green robes that were too long to be functional, and Thor knew immediately that Loki was heading for a bath. A bath and then a long, slow fuck, if the rumors from their youth were true. It made him grit his teeth.

 

***

 

Frigga looked up from her wild creep of sweet scented vine and watched as Odin approached her. “My love,” she inquired of him with a whisper when he did no more than sit at her side, leaning his head against her thigh. 

 

“Loki spoke sense to me,” he said it in a manner that implied he was shocked by this notion. Which Frigga supposed was fair--Loki had been clever, surely, but had never been known to have sense in certain matters. 

 

“How so?” She crouched beside Odin, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she kissed his cheek. 

 

“He told me a good never outweighs what is right,” as Odin spoke he shook his head, “Have I died, Frigga, is this all an illusion that I’ve slowly been dreaming since I took that last breath?” 

 

“If it is, love, then I pray for you this dream never ends,” she kissed him gently against his beard and Odin gazed upon her with that same look of longing he wore the first night they met in those long forgotten woods. 

 

“I would thank whatever deity gave me you in this dream,” he husked, his tone and gaze full of adulation. 

 

“I would feel honored to know that it was me you chose to dream,” Frigga whispered just as reverently, then with a teasing tone she she added, “You should have to thank the god Loki for me, then, my love.” 

 

“So it seems I would,” Odin sighed as he leaned into her embrace. 

 

***

 

The meeting was done when Odin departed, not long after Loki, and Thor dismissed his warriors. None of them looked best pleased about the non-decision on what to do with the Fire Giants, and seemed equally excited about the return of Loki. 

 

Balthor left in a hurry, no doubt in search of solitude to gather his thoughts, or perhaps he was in search of Loki. Though Thor knew he would not find that wiley devil. 

 

To settle his thoughts and confirm his suspicions Thor went to the large bath of Loki’s chamber, but he didn’t find him there, and a frown tipped down at the corners of his mouth when he thought of where else Loki would go. Thor wanted to stop him. Why? He was, as of yet, unwilling to admit his need to keep Loki untouched by others. So he turned to rage as he ripped through the halls. Looking for his uncaged prisoner. 

 

He was startled to find that Loki was in his own chamber. Yet, he stood before Thor as a maiden. A maiden who smiled at him with sweet pink lips when she looked up from the goblet of wine she was pouring. With hair a soft brown that fell over a gentle shoulder, the skin a tanned expanse of temptation to Thor’s hungry gaze, but her eyes--the color a perfect match to the waves that washed in from the sea--drew Thor in. His smile hidden at the corners of his mouth as he beckoned the _woman_ closer. Even with large breasts and voluptuous hips, Thor knew that walk and his smile grew further. Feeling indulgent, he waved her closer and insisted upon the maiden taking the seat before him. 

 

“I thought myself a good king,” Thor began as he watched her settle into her seat. 

 

“You are a good king,” she replied dutifully even though there was a fire of laughter dancing in her eyes. As if Loki could tell that Thor recognized him despite his advanced magicks and enjoyed that Thor saw through the charade.  

 

“A good king knows the names of his subjects--he remembers faces, and I am afraid, my lady, that I cannot recall yours.” 

 

Her smile was almost non-existent, but Thor caught it and grinned when she said, “Perhaps there is nothing memorable about me, sire.” 

 

With a chuckle, Thor replied, “I highly doubt that, my lady. I sense that you are, indeed, full of sweet mischief.” 

***

 

Thor’s strength kept Loki’s soft, glamored form caged against the smooth marbled wall of Thor’s private bath. “Sire,” Loki simpered, his voice too sweet and gentle for his own liking but Thor seemed to enjoy the sound when he pressed his hard, covered cock against the skirts covering Loki’s hip. “Sire,” Loki tried again, in the same pleading voice, “I still have my flower.” 

 

Thor--pervert that he was--groaned and pressed himself harder against Loki’s soft flesh. His voice was deep and rough with his lust, “I would be honored to have such a gift.” 

 

And really, who was Loki to deny a king? The tremble that ran through him was not calculated, but in this form he felt safe behind the glamor. Safe enough to allow Thor to spark within him long hidden desires. Desires he’d only allowed to be fulfilled once before.

 

Calloused fingers brushed the gossamer off Loki’s tan shoulders, and further down to reveal the full swell of his breasts. Thor paused his disrobing to grip one in his strong hand and Loki arched into the touch as Thor’s head bent to taste. “You are the same color everywhere, my lady--not a stripe of pale flesh in sight--do you run through fields naked?” 

 

How Thor could speak with such calmness, despite the hardness of his cock, Loki would never know. “Would it please you if I did?” 

 

“Yes,” Thor whispered as he fell to his knees before Loki, his hands snaking around to undo the ties of Loki’s gown--causing it to fall to a puddle on the polished floor. Thor’s mouth was against the flesh of his stomach, nipping at the fat he allowed there, and Loki trembled. Weak at the knees as Thor ran his war rough hands against the soft curves Loki wore. Gently, Thor parted Loki’s thick thighs. “My lady,” he whispered against Loki’s sex--the sex he had not changed with his glamor--it made Loki swallow, suddenly nervous. Then Thor spoke again, “I would have your flower.” 

 

Loki frowned, momentarily confused, before Thor sucked against the slick folds of Loki’s secret. “Ahh,” he shouted, surprised, and in his surprise his voice became his own, “Ah, sire, stop this madness!” 

 

He was no virgin--hadn’t been for centuries--but this was a first for Loki. Most of his bed partners had been content to rut within him. None had even dared to taste Loki in such a manner. He was a plaything, and had been content as such. Even in that dark place with Thor he was content to ride Thor, to pant as needed, until Thor spilled within him. 

 

This though. This was _vulgar_ \--sloppy, wet, and hot with the heat of Thor’s tongue as it explored Loki. His warrior hands harsh on Loki’s thick hips, holding Loki to the cold stone. Loki swallowed around a scream as Thor sucked at his more sensitive skin before his teeth grazed against Loki. He wanted to demand of Thor why he would do this. Loki wanted to know what pleasure this could possibly give Thor, but his words were gone as Thor fucked him, in earnest, with his tongue and fingers. 

 

The familiar curl of pleasure built low in Loki’s stomach. His body grew inflamed with it, and tears formed at the corners of his eyes when he thought of how this would end before he discovered what the fall of climax felt like. Only he needn’t have worried for Thor continued, longer than any lover previous, and soon Loki hit his peak. A scream ripped from his throat while he felt his cunt flutter around Thor’s still seeking tongue. There was a flood of wet between his thighs, and Loki watched the world in front of him become spotted with black as he fell, boneless, against the wall. 

 

Thor sat back, on his haunches, his strong arms held Loki up, and a smile was on his face. Though it looked obscene to Loki since Thor’s face glistened with Loki’s slick, but even so his cunt fluttered--wanting to feel more of Thor. “Did I please you, my lady?” 

 

Loki remained silent, afraid to speak, until his breathing evened out. “Did I please you, sire,” he countered and Thor’s smile was fond when he nodded. 

 

“Yes, my lady, more than you know.” 

 

***

 

So the dance continued. Thor smiled when his “maidens” would happen across him. No matter what ailed him in the day--between talks of war, planning, and restoring his kingdom Thor was tired but his maidens cured all angers and hurts in him. Innocent looking, bodies a swell of femininity that Loki had never possessed, but the eyes were always Loki’s--and more than anything that caused the thrum of desire to zing through Thor when he’d approach them. 

 

This evening, Loki came to him--looking as Sif had in youth, at eighteen, golden haired and wild. His hand was small and delicate looking when Thor took it into his own. 

 

“Come, my lady,” Thor whispered against Loki’s knuckles, “Tonight the stars fall across the sky, and in my bed there is an unhindered view.” It was the thought of this moment that had made the meeting with his warriors bearable. They were no closer to a solution regarding Muspelheim, and the months had grown into eternities for Thor. He would see that world annihilated if only to shut up the stubborn men who grow angry and restless. Yet, Thor could not do that to Balthor. He would not steal the goodness from him by putting his version of good before what was fundamentally right. 

 

“Such a charmer,” Loki purred in a voice not his own, and Thor--broken from his morose thoughts--chuckled as he led Loki deeper into his chamber by the hand. 

 

There was an unspoken agreement between them--neither would call the other by their name, and neither would shatter the illusion. Thor wasn’t quite sure he was ready to take Loki--as he had in those faintly recalled dreams, and he was certain Loki was not ready to face Thor as himself, and until they were ready they would face one another as strangers. 

 

Loki sat, the swell of his hips seeming fuller as he did so, upon Thor’s bed and Thor smiled as he removed the tunic he wore. It had been a tiresome day; full of arguments that made him more weary than any battle ever could.  

 

“Eager,” Loki’s voice trilled--almost melodious. Thor grinned at the sound; for later, in the throes of their lust, Loki’s voice would break through and echo in Thor’s rooms. That thought put him at ease and drew him into this moment with Loki. 

 

“For you, my lady, I am always eager,” it was his usual line. The one he spoke to all of Loki’s glamors, and even now it brought a flush to Loki’s skin. “Wine,” Thor asked as he went to lift the golden flagon to fill a goblet. 

 

“I am not here for a drink, my king.” 

 

“Aye,” Thor murmured when he turned to gaze upon Loki, “You are not.” His eyes were dark with his desires and he could see the want mirrored in Loki’s own while Thor crawled over him. 

 

The thin, flimsy excuse for a gown Loki wore was in tatters when Thor pulled at the material. Loki’s skin pale in the moonlight, and as the stars began to fall across the sky Thor saw their glittery descent in the reflection of Loki’s wide eyes.  “But you are a rare and lovely creature,” Thor husked against Loki’s delicate jaw line, drawing his teeth over the ridge of it. 

 

“And you are a brute,” Loki laughed when Thor’s short beard left a red rash against the skin of Loki’s neck. 

 

Thor did not correct him as he spread the creamy flesh of Loki’s thighs. Even in the dimness he could see the arousal between them, the light shine of Loki’s sex beckoned him to move closer--to smell, to taste, to touch. 

 

These were the moments Thor enjoyed best. When they fell silent but for the slick sound of Thor’s lips as they sucked and licked into Loki’s tenderest of flesh. Loki’s whimpers were loud above Thor’s head and he smiled against the slippery folds when he felt Loki’s cool fingers in his hair. The sounds rose to near screams, some time later, and echoed around them as Loki’s nails bit deeply into Thor’s tanned flesh. On the morrow there would be red welts, and Thor would wear them proudly--as if they were battle scars. When Loki came against Thor’s mouth he it drank down, delighting in the flavor of what he knew was a secret only Thor knew. 

 

Settling against the railing of his bed, Thor smiled while he watched Loki try to push himself up on weakened limbs. Taking pity Thor pulled his glamored body up, and closer to press his lips against the salty taste that had gathered at Loki’s throat. 

 

Green eyes hooded, Loki tilted his head aside, the long gold of his hair spilling across his too soft shoulder, to allow Thor all the access he desired. 

 

“You are still aroused, my king,” Loki murmured--voice rougher than it originally was when they began, but still not Loki’s. 

 

“Mhmm,” Thor hummed against Loki’s pulse, delighting in the flutter he felt beneath his lips, “I would see you satisfied before I seek my own pleasure.” 

 

Loki’s chuckle tickled against Thor’s skin, “Of course.” Then bolder he sat forward, out of Thor’s arm, casting a look over his borrowed shoulder at Thor--a look full of wicked, wanton thoughts. 

 

Thor yielded when Loki climbed atop him, and pressed cool white hands against Thor’s chest. The delicate fingers tracing old scars and the hard ridges of Thor’s muscles; he watched Loki’s face--still a maiden--as it shifted in delight. “I would ride you,” he whispered--more of Loki’s voice in the sound as his desire unhinged him. “As a warrior on a steed.” 

 

“Come then, warrior lady, and ride me for your pleasure,” Thor’s hand smoothed over the curve of Loki’s hip and he felt the shudder that ran through Loki at his words. “I would look upon your face, as you do so, and watch as you fuck yourself on my cock.” 

 

Loki’s green eyes were a blaze of want then, and without preamble he opened Thor’s breeches--sinking upon Thor without warning. It was tight wet heat that fluttered around his girth and Thor groaned--deep and guttural. His large hands gripped hard at Loki’s fleshy thighs, and he wondered briefly, if the bruises would linger on Loki. He wanted Loki to look at them, in private, and touch the remnants of Thor as he remembered the slide of his cock. Thor wanted him to savor this union, more than Thor wanted to spill within the welcoming heat Loki’s body provided. It was odd and thrilling--something he had never before wanted--the desire to please another before himself. 

 

He fucked down on Thor, hard, and with a pleased smile Thor watched as Loki rode him without much finesse. As if he were too lost in the deep penetrative feel of Thor’s thick cock to do more than try to bring it deeper, and do it as fast as he could. It was pleasurable in a way Thor hadn’t experienced before. The women before Loki too docile to take charge and push down a king. Only Loki, and Thor thrust up, harsh and deep, as he held tight to Loki’s soft back. 

 

“Come for me,” he commanded, noticing the far off gaze Loki’s maiden face wore. “Come on me,” Thor bit and kissed at all the skin he could find. He wanted Loki’s skin on his tongue, wanted to commit all of it to memory, as surely as he wanted to brand--within Loki’s body--the memory of Thor. He would wash away the distant memory of others. That was his thought as he flipped them, putting Loki onto his back and snapping into him like a dog in the rut. Animalistic he snarled, while Loki held tight to Thor’s biceps--begging for more. 

 

“Deeper, Thor,” he cried. The unspoken rule shattered while Thor did as commanded. Fucking Loki with an intensity that threatened to break the bed. It groaned beneath them, and still Thor did not stop. 

 

“Loki,” he growled as he bit into Loki’s skin, wanting to leave deep bruises--a brand upon him. “Release the glamor,” Thor demanded. He needed, then, to see Loki as he was. To watch Loki gasp as he came, and when the glamor melted like ice in summer Thor came suddenly. For Loki was beautiful. In a way that was all his own. 

 

It was a near violent beauty--similar to the intensity of Loki’s love--all sharp angles with too white skin that was a wicked lure. Loki was all long lines of lean muscle, too thin to be comfortable to hold--and yet, Thor found him gentle, almost soft, in his palms. Loki’s hair was a dark spill of ink across Thor’s golden pillows and his eyes were deep oceans of green. The ocean Thor would gladly die within, and he knew, then, what Odin spoke of all those years ago. 

 

There was violence between them--a torrent of passion--and yet Thor gladly went into the tidal wave of it; prepared to drown in this madness. His harsh hold at Loki’s throat and one angular hip loosened. Thor’s eyes devoured the mess of Loki, tangled in his sheets. The bruises of Thor’s passion bright against Loki’s pale skin, and had his brother truly been a maiden Thor would feel a twinge of discomfort at the sight, but Loki wore them like diamonds and made Thor proud to have put them beneath his skin. 

 

Loki arched, after he’d finally caught his breath, and ran cool, long fingers over Thor’s chest. They were silent, both staring at the other, judging the subtle movements and trying to read the intent therein. After a short while Loki broke the spell between them with a laugh. 

 

“Does my appearance please you, brother?” Despite the hard edge of the question Thor could sense the vulnerability. He saw the way Loki tried to cover himself, and it drew Thor’s eye to the still slick entrance between Loki’s thighs. The entrance Thor’s cock was still softening within. It was as the rumors stated--all those centuries before--and Thor could still remember the ripple of anger those rumors pushed through him. Now that he saw; Thor could admit that it was Aesir in appearance, but that it had no business lying between the thighs of an Aesir male. It should disgust him, but it didn’t--the image only intrigued him more. Perhaps this was the Jotunn in Loki. He daren’t ask. 

 

Instead Thor rubbed the rough tip of his thumb over Loki’s still sensitive flesh, causing Loki to shudder, and smiled down at Loki’s cunt. “It pleases me, Loki--it pleases me greatly.” Uncharacteristically shy Loki tried to draw the cover over them, to hide from Thor, but Thor would not allow that as he stopped Loki’s arm with a gentle hand. “I should keep this treasure of yours hidden for myself.” 

 

“I’m am odd, a man with a cunt--why not find the wet cave of a more striking creature?” Loki’s voice was a hiss, and Thor caught his hands when he tried to lash out to hide his discomfort. 

 

“You are the most striking creature to me.” Thor admitted with honesty, “Whether you were Aesir female, Aesir male, or anything Jotunn my feelings would not change.” He touched his hot palm to Loki’s cool cheek, “I take you as my ocean, and I will spend forever trying to discover all your secrets.” 

 

“The sea likes to spit out sailors, Thor.” 

 

“Even so,” he conceded, “They wake every morn and go to try and conquer her once more.” 

 

Loki was silent a long, long while--so long Thor thought he would not speak again, but he did speak. Voice soft and full of the burdens of truth, “Forever is a long time, Thor--you would do better to spend such time looking for a queen, fucking heirs into her, and living a normal life. But wait until this war of yours is over, yes?” 

 

He slipped from Thor’s hold then, and conjured for himself a gown, and a glamor. Without a look behind him, Thor watched as Loki slipped from his chambers. With a sigh he settled back against the wall, basking in the cool feel of it. Loki felt so close now, and Thor felt near content--yet, at the same time Loki felt centuries from him and Thor was still a mess of stormy emotions. 

 

***

 

Loki did not return to Thor after that night; instead he took to wandering Mother’s gardens, fucking lowly stable hands where the great Heimdall could see. “You tell him, Heimdall,” Loki commanded after one such encounter. Lying on his back in a tangle of green silk, “You tell him, and ignite his rage.” 

 

He knew Thor had charged Heimdall with his watch, and since he’d been avoiding Thor he knew well that Heimdall would report his every action to Asgard’s king. It was his sworn duty to obey his king, and when the rains fell heavy and the lightning danced across the sky, followed closely by the rumble of thunder Loki knew Thor was enraged. 

 

_Good,_ Loki thought, _I grow bored with watching this war._

 

***

 

Balthor glanced up as his mother glided into the war room. His eyes glittering in the light like seaglass, and Balthor felt wary as Loki smiled. It was a smile he’d not seen for some time; one that, centuries ago, Loki had worn for Samgangr in Helheim as he brought the monstrous king of that realm to his knees. His ominous thought, now, as he watched Mother laugh in the faces of his father’s warriors, was that once again Balthor would witness his mother bringing a king to their knees. 

 

Aren was the one who dared lay a hand upon Loki, and in an instant it was Father whose face contorted with fury. There was no warning as Mjolnir whirled through the air and struck Aren down. Loki appeared entirely too pleased as he straightened his clothes and ran a hand over his abdomen. 

 

In truth, Balthor had not been unwise to the storm brewing between his parents. He heard the rumors, and worse yet caught them at it one night. Mother’s glamors had always been easy for Balthor to see through, and after that horrifying discovery--in which neither of them noticed him, thankfully--Balthor decided that he would no longer be visiting the stables for solitude. Closing his eyes to the near gentle way his mother touched the swell of his lower stomach did not make the truth of what Loki carried in his womb go away. Thor’s bastard resided there, and Balthor grew weary at the knowledge. Not from jealousy, nor anger, but for the poor babe who would know the unending strife that lived between their parents. 

 

“Thank you, Thor,” Loki simpered as he stepped closer, and Bathor watched the reserved way Thor tracked his every movement. The illusion of calm was shattered soon, however when Loki said, “It would not do to have him harming the baby.” 

 

Father’s face was a ripple through emotions. He went through so many Balthor could not name them all, but none of them was shock and he found that fitting. Thor had to know where children came from, surely, and he had to know that there was a purpose to everything Loki did. Loki being pregnant meant Loki wanted something; even Balthor knew that to be true of his mother. 

 

***

 

“Leave us,” Thor whispered, voice faint but authorative nonetheless, and he did not miss the way Loki smirked at those who passed them on their way out of the room. Thor lifted the flagon to his mouth and drank the contents down, not bothering with a goblet; his heart hammering away in his chest as he gathered his thoughts. 

 

“Thor,” Loki said, voice soft and placating, “Surely you knew what lying with me would bring.” 

 

“I knew you to be full of tricks, and among those talents I thought you knew how to prevent children.” Loki snorted in response to Thor’s snarled reply. 

 

“Of course I do, but why would I deny your seed in my womb?” Loki was inspecting his nails in a bored fashion when Thor faced him. 

 

“How do you know it is mine?” He’d heard from Heimdall, what Heimdall had seen in Mother’s gardens. The truth sent him mad with jealousy and he’d threatened each the lowly bastards with death if they so much as breathed in an amorous way near Loki. 

 

“You think I, Loki, Prince of Asgard, would allow the seed of a mongrel to take up residence in my womb? Thor, you know me better than that.” Loki sat himself upon the desk where Thor would strategize his final battle, or battles, with the Fire Giants. Loki’s feet pulled him closer, and Thor wondered as he pressed his hands over Loki’s thighs if this was a force he could resist. In truth that thought plagued him, more and more these days, and Thor was worried about where this madness would lead him. When he saw Loki’s slow smile spread across his cruel mouth, Thor reasoned it would lead him to his demise. 

 

Even still he pressed his mouth to the skin of Loki’s throat, and surrendered as Loki drew him closer. 

 

“I wish I could trust you,” Thor whispered--reminiscent of that time long past when they had gone to face the dark elves together. 

 

“Trust my love,” Loki replied, and the way he spoke the word ‘love’ was a hiss, full of a rage that, perhaps to Loki, mirrored love.

 

***

 

Loki smirked as Odin’s good eye settled over him with disdain, and with his deep voice he rumbled, “Thor, you cannot mean this.” 

 

At Loki’s side Thor tensed and Loki watched, amused, as his throat ticked with frustration, “I meant every word I said.”

 

To Loki Odin growled, “You planned this, didn’t you, you little wretch!” Then he stepped closer, face stony as he raised his staff, but Thor was faster. 

 

“My child lives in his womb,” Thor hissed, “And so long as my child is in him he is under my protection.” 

 

“He would use this child to trap you, Thor, and hold you beneath his thumb as he brings ragnarok to our door.” Odin seethed back and gestured to the tall windows before them, “He would undo all that you have settled!” Then with a grim face added, “I won’t let you do this, Thor.” 

 

“What right do you have to say that to me?” Thor demanded, and Loki glanced between them as father and son both grew increasingly furious--wisely he kept silent as he watched them. “You who left Asgard, causing her war, because of Frigga.” 

 

Odin stumbled, his face full of hurt as he whispered, “You’d have me forsake your mother for our people?” 

 

“No,” Thor replied, his tone almost gentle, and then added, “I would have you not judge me for placing my trust in the same person in which you placed yours.” 

 

With another morose glance Loki’s way, in which Loki tried to appear as innocent as possible, Odin released a breath, “He never asked me for the casket. I would have killed him if he had.” 

 

“Who else would wield it for us, Father? Who else knows how?” Thor tried to reason. 

 

Loki saw Odin’s eye move to Balthor, but both of them knew there was too little of Loki in him for him to have inherited the full power of a Jotnar. Loki was their only hope, and he could tell that terrified the war room as much as it thrilled Loki. 

 

“No one,” Odin conceded at last, and Loki only just managed to hide his smirk. 

 

When he left the room Balthor followed, his steps far more graceful than they had been that night he trailed after Loki towards Frigga’s gardens. “Mother,” he called and Loki slowed his gait to allow his son to catch up. 

 

“Balthor,” he began only to be interrupted by his son’s suspicious inquiry. 

 

“Why do you need the casket?” 

 

“I cannot lay frost over the Muspelheim without the casket. Even I am not powerful enough to do such damage alone.” Loki arched a brow, silently conveying his disappointment that Balthor had not puzzled that out for himself. 

 

“Will it hurt the child, Mother,” and that was what Loki loved about Balthor--he was raw goodness. Even when suspicious or wary this boy was good in ways Loki could never be; not even Thor was close. 

 

“It should not, she carries my blood same as you.” Balthor appeared almost pained by those words, and Loki’s smile was full of his sorrows when he whispered, “I am sorry, Balthor. Love and horror are in my blood, they are in yours as well, through me, and to undo that truth I would move heavens.” Balthor’s cheek was hot to Loki’s unusually cool touch and he stroked the faint beginnings of Balthor’s short blond beard, “I know you do not trust me as you had in youth, but believe me when I say I would move the worlds for you.” He drew one of Balthor’s hands to his rounded stomach, “And I would move them for her.” 

 

Green eyes settled over the nameless blade at Balthor’s side then, Loki frowned--he would move the worlds to make sure Balthor was accepted, and if that meant causing a little chaos Loki would gladly do so. His bastard bore no title, held no true name, and his weapon was as plain as a common warrior’s--no son of Thor’s should be so undecorated. Nor should a son of Loki’s.  

 

“Mother,” Loki startled out of his thoughts when Balthor pressed his forehead to Loki’s, “I don’t need more than what I have. I promise.” 

 

“No, child, the world should tremble to behold you.” With that Loki left him, and did not look back to see what worry he had left etched into Balthor’s smooth face. 

 

***

 

Loki was fat with Thor’s child by the time they rode toward Muspelheim. Balthor rode with them despite Loki’s insistence he stay home, as did Odin, and Thor suspected Odin came to make sure no evils befell Thor or Balthor. Behind them marched an army, and Sif circled Loki with Volstagg despite Loki’s insistence that he could mind himself. 

 

The casket rode at Loki’s side and when it brushed against him Thor saw a pale bluish hue begin to snake up Loki’s arm. Behind them their army bristled, and Loki--in his usual spirit of mischief--turned to face the men with his crimson eyes. “What’s the matter, lads, never seen a Frost Giant before?” 

 

Thor cut a glare his way, but Loki didn’t notice--too busy delighting in the discomfort of the men behind them. “Loki,” Thor barked when they finally came to one of Loki’s passages between worlds. “Whatever you’re going to do you will have to do it as we enter Muspelheim.” 

 

“I’m aware, love,” Loki simpered, rubbing his round belly for the discomfort of the others and Thor wondered, briefly what he was thinking dealing with this devil. 

 

***

 

Loki dismounted his horse, carrying the casket with him as he stepped closer to the place where the heat radiated out from Muspelheim. Casket in hand Loki summoned what he could, and watched with amusement as his ice blanketed the ground, but not long enough to get the entire force of their men upon it. 

 

“Loki,” Thor yelled, “Come here.” However, Loki did not listen, he stepped barefoot across the rock, and his magic followed him--keeping a protective barrier between the scalding surface of Muspelheim and the soles of his blue feet. When he peered into that place where he could see Thor and Odin and the other staring at him with wide, worried eyes Loki threw his head back with a loud cry of laughter. 

 

***

 

Thor ignored the, “I told you so,” his father hissed at his side. Instead he got as close as he could to the searing ground. His face breaking out with sweat as he called for Loki, “Loki! Come back here!” 

 

Liquid ruby eyes lit up as more laughter tumbled from Loki’s throat; maniacal in tone. “Watch me now, Odinson,” he hissed, and Thor felt his blood run cold despite the heat enveloping him. “I will make this world tremble.” 

 

So he was forced to stand there, watching, helpless as hoards of Fire Giants came for Loki. Mountains high with rocky skin that was black as ash and sparks of flame that erupted from the surface of them. They surrounded him, and Loki--reckless as ever in his madness--cackled, “Is this your entire army, sir?” 

 

The biggest one, at the front growled, his voice sounded like rock breaking, “Should I call them all to you, Laufeyson?” 

 

“Call them all,” Loki hissed, moving the casket about him in a fast circle, demolishing a few of them with it’s power. “I would watch you tremble beneath my hate!” 

 

More came and Thor shouted again, as did Odin, Balthor, and their warriors, but Loki did not listen. His deranged laughter echoed around the giants even as they moved closer to him. 

 

“Loki, please,” Thor begged. A sheen of frustration and fear gathering at the corners of his eyes. They noticed him then, but Thor couldn’t care. His only worry was for Loki. When the first flaming beast came toward him, Thor decimated him easily, and didn’t notice the burn Mjolnir seared across his rough palm when she soared back into his palm. Loki destroyed the next one that came near to the small crack in the worlds. “Loki,” Thor screamed again, and began to move into the realm that would burn him alive. 

 

“Father,” Balthor cried, his hands scrambling to draw Thor back into their narrow passage. However, he missed, and Thor heard Odin stop him before he, too, was lost to the flames of this realm.  

 

The giant over Loki released a condescending laugh, “Look at that Aesir, he would burn for you.” 

 

“And I would freeze for him,” Loki hissed, raising the casket above him once more. “I would ruin worlds for him.” 

 

“Did he put another bastard in you, Laufeyson?” 

 

Loki’s smile was a cruel tilt moments before another cackle of laughter tumbled out of him. “My husband is allowed to put as many heirs in me as he wishes. For I am his queen and I will not let the likes of you ruin him.” 

 

“You have no power here,” the giant laughed again, amusement obvious in his tone as Loki called to Thor. 

 

“Thor, am I your queen?” 

 

“Yes,” Thor rasped, his throat inflamed. His body melting like wax in fire. 

  
“Until your death and even after that when we dine in the gilded halls of Valhalla together?” Loki demanded, his red eyes dark with his plea. 

 

“Only you,” Thor promised and was on the verge of passing out when he murmured, “My queen.” 

 

The last thing Thor saw was the freeze that engulfed him in it’s tender yet icy hold. 

 

***

 

Loki cackled up at Surt, his eyes blazing with power as he roared, “I am Loki of Asgard! I have power everywhere!” Then, after another shot against the giants with his casket Loki cried, “Heimdall open the Bifrost!” 

 

He stood within the force of the rainbowed light, with his casket using the harnessed powers to annihilate every enemy that had come to subdue him. When the last of his enemies fell Loki spit upon their smoldering corpses, and hissed, “I am queen of the nine realms, fool, you will know no victory against me.” 

 

Finally, he told Heimdall he was ready and allowed the old gatekeeper to pull him from that searing hell. 

 

***

 

Odin tried to grab Loki as soon as he was back on Asgard, but Balthor’s hold on Mjolnir stopped him when he realized Balthor held Thor’s hammer easily within his palm. “You will not touch my mother,” Balthor warned, “What he did was save us all.” 

 

Glowering in Loki’s direction, Odin spit. “You,” he hissed, “You would see the end of us all.” 

 

“I would see the end of your war,” Loki agreed then snapped, “Get Thor to the healing room now!” 

 

***

 

When Thor woke it was to the sounds of healers as they buzzed about his bed. The whirl of golden magicks above him were melodious as he opened his eyes and soon the Lady Sigyn was there, in his sights, running her seidr over Thor’s sore body. 

 

“Careful, my king,” Sigyn warned, and tried to ease him back into a resting position but Thor was too wound up for that. “Loki,” he demanded of her and she shot him a worried glance. “Loki?” he tried again, desperate. 

 

“Nowhere to be found, sire, he is hidden even from Heimdall.” 

 

***

 

Sif remained silent for much of Loki’s absence, after he’d long since left to some secret corner of Asgard--hidden beneath magicks from Heimdall’s gaze. She held her tongue when Thor destroyed a hall with his anger. She even held her tongue when Thor threatened to tear the whole of the realms apart in his quest despite their newfound peace; since their defeat of the Fire Giants. 

 

However, when she saw Balthor hanging his head, putting his grief into his palms, Sif felt her silence abandon her. She would not allow Loki to put a shadow around Balthor’s heart. 

 

She approached Thor’s throne with a slight apprehension, and when he looked upon her Thor cast his hand about casually--a silent command for her to speak. It was rare that he spoke these days--rather he communicated with grunts and glares.

 

After a swallow, and a short glance at her husband, in which she tried to convey an apology, Sif said, “I know where Loki is, my king.” 

 

Thor’s expression was one she’d seen in battle, often times, but had never before been directed at her--brave as she was even Sif trembled before the fury of his stare. 

 

“You know, and yet you sit in my hall, stand beside me in my search, and speak to me no word--this treachery I would expect from Loki, but not from you, Sif.” His voice was a booming sound that echoed against the tall pillars of this gilded hall, “Now tell me, Sif, why I should not smite you where you stand?"

 

***

 

It was Balthor who answered for Sif and Thor glanced up from her trembling form to see his son enter the hall. 

 

“There is only one reason Mother left,” he said. Not in the least bit fearful of Thor’s wrath, and he held his back defiant when he spoke again, “He left to keep this child from the eyes of our people. Mother would not ruin this babe by the slander of wagging tongues.” And oh did that boil Thor’s blood. 

 

“Find him,” Thor commanded of Fandral, then he jerked his head to a guard signalling the man to remove Sif from the room. Only when the guard approached the man was met by the tip of Balthor’s sword. 

 

“You dare approach this lady and I will remove your head from your shoulders,” he spoke with a calm, dangerous intent.  

 

Thor, outraged, shouted, “You defy your king, boy?” 

 

Balthor, infuriating as Loki, looked unafraid when he hissed, “I’d defy the Norns for my mother, so don’t think I won’t hesitate to defy you.” 

 

Thor clenched his jaw, “You would have me do what then, Balthor? Leave your mother and my child to themselves and never see them?” 

 

“Better away from the courts, alone, than for them to be openly ridiculed like the Lady Rindr,” Balthor yelled in his fury, and Thor saw--for the first time--with eyes unclouded by his own desires. “I would sit the throne, Father?” The way Balthor spat ‘Father’ reminded Thor of Loki and he felt his heart weigh heavy in his chest as he fell into the seat of his throne. “What a mockery of Asgard that would be! A bastard upon your ancestors’ legacy...you might will it, Odinson, but they know me for what I am. I am no Thorson--I am Balthor the nameless and I would not sit your throne as a bastard, nor would I have my sister returned to court to be mocked or to be used and discarded by a man of higher station.” 

 

“Sister,” Thor breathed and then threw himself out of his seat in outrage when Balthor suggested there would be such treatment of Thor’s daughter in the future. “I would slay any man who would speak ill of her, or who would use her as such.” Then with more fury he added, “And you are the creation of two princes--even as a bastard your station is far above any of those in this hall, save for my own. And if one is stupid enough to challenge your right then you remove his head from his shoulders! My son, Balthor--my son,” Thor emphasised his love for the child by beating his fist against his strong chest. “I would love no son of any wife I’d take near as much as I would love you. Even if I were to marry, even if I were to produce a legitimate heir I would move the worlds to make sure you sit in this seat.” 

 

Balthor sagged, “And that is why Mother won’t return--I know him, despite the distances set between us through the years, and I know so long as you are queenless he will not return to these halls. What you vowed in the face of others does not make Loki queen. He only used your words so that he might command Heimdall to do what we all thought should be done--removed the tired bureaucracy of it all.” 

 

Thor rubbed a hand against his tired face, and said, “So be it.” 

 

***

 

Loki looked up from the small white face that suckled at his chest when he heard the rumble of thunder in the distance. A smile, soft and melancholy spreads across his mouth as he whispered, “That’s your father, you know--he’s a bloody fool, righteous to a fault and more powerful than any other man I have ever seen...save for myself, of course. He doesn’t know you, but if he did he woul-” the sudden burst of the door opening caused Loki to stop--startled for once, as he clutched the child to his chest. 

 

“I would love her more than any other girl in the realm,” Thor’s voice was a booming sound in the room and Loki fell to the floor clutching their infant daughter to his chest. Furious that Sif had told Thor of where he’d gone. He’d been a bloody fool to think that vile bitch could keep her tongue still. 

 

“No, no, no--you idiot, why have you come,” Loki demanded, voice a hiss as he tried to back them away from Thor’s imposing body. 

 

“I have come for my queen, Loki,” Thor said--face serious. 

 

Loki threw back his head and laughed, startling the babe awake and causing her to cry out. He ignored her cries as he yelled at Thor, “And who says I will be your queen, Odinson?” 

 

Thor crowded against them, his hot body settling close enough to touch the skin of the baby and warm Loki. “For whom were all your tricks meant to impress, Loki?” Thor’s whisper was a deep but gentle rumble and it reminded Loki of the thunder he had always watched Thor command. 

 

“For myself,” Loki said, his voice a weak hiss at best while Thor moved his palms to cup Loki’s jaw. The pads of Thor’s thumbs brushed over his skin while Thor’s ever bright eyes roamed over Loki as if he hadn’t seen him in centuries. 

 

“Liesmith,” Thor chuckled--turning the insult into a term of endearment, and pressed a kiss to the corner of Loki’s mouth. “You would have me believe your hatred for me because you are afraid I would not embrace your love.” 

 

“You-,” Loki began but Thor’s kiss silenced him. It was a kiss full of passion--violent, deep, and domineering. 

 

When Thor pulled away Loki saw the pained emotions as they moved across his handsome face, “If you don’t love me, Loki then why birth my children--why love them so gently when you have never before loved the children of your womb?” 

 

He had no words and remained silent when Thor took to the knee. “In all the nine realms, Loki, there is no creature I would have for my wife but you.” 

 

With a swallow and sharp gaze, Loki said, “Not even your long dead woman if I could pull her from her afterlife?” 

 

Without hesitation Thor responded, “No. I would only take you, Loki, to be mine until the end of the worlds--and even after.”

 

“Why?” 

 

“Because Father once told me there was an ocean with which I would choose to battle, and even knowing I would lose I would still choose to surrender unto its waters--you are that ocean, Loki. No matter the torrents you send for me; I will still choose to sail into you, I will still try to tame you.” 

 

“But you never will,” Loki snapped, angry at the notion that someone could control him. 

 

“Aye, I won’t, but I would gladly allow you to tame me,” Thor whispered, eyes imploring, “You once asked me to trust your rage, and you once asked me to trust your love. I do, Loki, I trust all of you.”  

 

“You are a fool, Thor,” Loki sneered, but he gave no protest when Thor’s hands touched him-- even as he held their child to his breast--his motions hungry and his mouth a brand at Loki’s throat. 

 

***

 

The Aesir still looked at Loki as if he were untrustworthy, and, in truth, he was all that they feared and more. Only he wanted no crown as Odin had blatantly said when he interrogated Loki when Thor brought him back. Did he want Balthor to be king? Yes. Balthor was a smart child, and would be a king unlike any other. Did that mean Loki wanted to be queen? No. He had enough issue with being different he didn’t relish the notion of being a breeding bitch who would sit at a king’s side. Loki wanted power, yes, but he didn’t want it at that price. 

 

When he said all this to Mother she laughed at his stupidity. “My boy, I told you once, a long time ago, that there is power in your surrender. The king might rule but the queen guides him. With calculated touches, kisses so sweet he could not resist relenting for their taste, and in that secret place between your thighs...well,” she smiled wide, “Let’s just say he would go to war for that delight, and would gladly die for that pleasure.” 

 

He wasn’t quite sure how he should feel about the words his mother spoke. Sure, once upon a time, Frigga had taught him more than tricks. Told him of the art of seduction, and he had floundered, for he was neither male nor was he female as he later learned and when he confronted Mother about that truth she had smiled at him, in that private way that was only his, and whispered, “My son you are perfect. There is no other like you, Loki. Revel in the fact that the Norns read for you a unique destiny.” 

 

“What is that destiny,” he’d asked then, desperate to know that he would find his place, his happiness, despite his differences. 

 

“Live and you will find out,” Frigga had whispered in her enigmatic way, and Loki held to the hope that she was wrong that there was another like himself, but in that brothel he had seen that he was indeed unique and he took to the libraries to see what other monsters were built like him. The closest he could find to himself were the Frost Giants, who had privates of both sexes and could father and mother children as they willed. They all appeared as men--great hulking beasts, really, who lacked any whisper of the femininity Loki had seen in the Aesir, Vanir, and Midgardians. Loki in comparison was a runt, a slender little thing that was neither feminine nor masculine and he had wondered. The wondering led him to seek Laufey, to seek vengeance against Thor for being born perfect, and from then on every action had led him to more fury, to greater violence, until finally Loki had felt hollowed and burned away. 

 

There was no way the Norns had wanted this for him. He’d wrecked worlds, perhaps he was so different he’d received no blessings, and no fate. Now, as if Frigga could read that thought, she pressed a kind, loving touch to his cheek. 

 

“The Norns brought you to us, Loki, and your grandfather dreamed of your presence in our halls.” She kissed his hair, “You were always meant for this; you just got lost along the way.” 

 

“What do you mean?” He asked as Frigga went to grab a silver handled brush with which to untangle his hair. 

 

***

 

Thor stood beside Odin in a private chamber. Long after one of the servants had come to wash him, anoint him with some sort of scented oils, before combing his hair and trimming his short beard. “Have you nothing to say, Father,” Thor inquired while he smoothed down the soft fabric of his tunic. “It is my wedding day, after all.” 

 

He smirked when Odin glanced up at him in a sharp manner, “I don’t approve of this. Loki is too volatile to marry; I shouldn’t have let that boy worm his way into my heart.” 

 

With a frown, Thor said, “You are the one who defended him to me, Father, and he gave you Frigga.” 

 

“Aye, he did,” Odin conceded, “But at what cost to the realms?” 

 

“That was a question you should’ve asked yourself before you abandoned Asgard and threw us into strife,” Thor reasoned with a weary tone, they’d had this conversation often in the past few months when there was a ripple of discord over Thor’s engagement. “What is done is done.” 

 

“You don’t have to marry him, Thor.” 

 

“I do,” he replied, also tired with this argument, “I said he was mine in front of our army and in front of our enemies. Those who survived the Bifrost have no doubt spoken--to remain unwedded would show others that they can place no trust in the word of Asgard’s king.”

 

“The people are angry about it,” Odin reasoned. 

 

“Less so than you’d imagine, I think Loki had the army with us so that they could witness his actions,” Thor snorted in amusement over that. 

 

“You should marry someone you love,” Odin whispered, in a manner than said he had failed. 

 

“I am, Father. I have always loved Loki, perhaps it was not always romantic, but it has always been deep and true.” 

 

With a sigh Thor’s father took a seat, his face appearing ancient and drained as he whispered, “It was always romantic. Frigga and I saw to that when you were young.” Thor’s expression was closed off as he calmly instructed his father to elaborate. “I took Loki from that desolate rock to form a bond of peace with our enemies. I held Laufey’s unique little son in my palm and decided he would marry you one day. Beget you children and there would be a bond formed between our realms. A Jotun prince married to an Asgardian king.” With a frustrated sound leaving his throat Odin continued, “Only Laufey wanted no claim to the child, and said it would be foolish to marry you two because there would be no peace. So, it was moot, and instead of raising you both to fall in love with one another we raised you as family. Yet, for Loki the romantic feelings never faded, and he began his slow ascension into what he is today.” 

 

“Laufey is dead, Father,” Thor said, and Odin nodded, “As are his sons...all but Loki. Perhaps the people would be more forgiving of my union if they knew their king had taken an enemy king as his bride.” 

 

“They will never trust him, Thor.” 

 

“I trust him.” 

 

Odin closed his eye as he leaned his head back against Thor’s chair, “You are a fool, my son.” 

 

***

 

Their wedding was an invasively public affair, and Loki’s skin itched as he met Thor at the gilded steps of the throne room while thousands of eyes watched his ascent. Thor’s smirk was slight as he touched the ivory sleeve of Loki’s long shift, and his voice was low when he said, “My lady, I did not know you owned such finery.” 

 

“Another word and I will cut your balls off in your sleep,” Loki promised with a wide adoring smile that well hid the low hiss of his words. 

 

“You’ve already given me children, I’ve no need for them now.” Thor’s solemn nod was a mockery along with his words and Loki wanted to say to hell with this oaf, but then Thor’s voice came louder and his strong hand took hold of Loki’s. He recited some poetry that was long lost in the rows of the libraries; a poem Loki often read in youth when he was simple and happy and taken with the notion of love. Thor had teased him mercilessly when they’d been young; laughed as he stole Loki’s book and hid it away. Honestly, Loki thought he’d burn the small yellowed tome that was full of thin, brittle pages. He never thought Thor to be the sort who would woo him with poetry, as most traditionalist Aesir did. Their men were brutes, if Loki was being honest, but they had a way with enchanting women with words; laying themselves bare, vulnerable, with words that they would mock in the training yards. 

The words Thor uttered were like a caress against Loki as he leaned nearer his cheek. 

 

“ At the door to my soul she is standing,

So sweet in the gleam of her garment:

Her footfall awakens a fury,

A fierceness of love that I knew not, 

Those feet of a wench in her wimple.

She loved me-no lord of them better:

I have lost her-for me she is weeping:

The dear, dainty darling that kissed me, 

For day upon day of delight.”

 

His lips rasped against Loki’s cheek, slightly chapped but warm, and Loki trembled as the rough hair of his beard caught against Loki’s smooth skin. “Do you consent to marry me, Loki?” 

 

It would be easy to humiliate Thor in front of all his people, but Loki was unable to unstick the lump in his throat so instead he nodded--a sign that he would belong to Thor. The smile that split across Thor’s face was radiant and Loki could not find it in him to hate that expression. 

 

***

 

Their celebrations lasted months, and despite the fact the Aesir were not fond of Loki they were fond of the drink and food this union brought. Thor sat regaling a table of revelers with his tales of battle, causing the avid listeners to release booms of laughter and cheers at the end of each story. Loki watched on, bored, from further down the table. Around him the parties seemed endless, and Loki feigned a headache when Thor and his merry band of idiots started another of round of tales of their heroisms. 

 

The halls were eeriy in their silence. Beyond their tall windows the city glittered golden with a backdrop that was a spill of stars. It was a calm, beautiful night.  An evening full of peace, and Loki loathed the serenity of it all. 

 

Balthor surprised him as he came from the light that spilled out of the hall into the gloom in which Loki stood, and he said, “Mother, Frigga says the baby needs you.” 

 

Of course, the child, and he nodded despite his dread at having to put the babe to his breast. 

 

***

Heimdall approached Thor with an air of trepidation and Thor felt a frown mar his face as he looked up from sheets on the financial damages they’d sustained in the rebuilding of Asgard, and the cost of Balthor’s yet unnamed hall. Mother usually oversaw the money, as was typical in Asgard. Women were thought to be better suited to minding the finances while men went out and waged the wars. 

 

Loki, in the titled role of queen, should’ve taken over for Mother, but the distrust of the people kept Thor from giving him such privileges. Mother, in a bit of a snit, gave Thor the ledgers and with a sweet smile said, “I am retired, mind the money yourself, my king.” 

 

So he was already drawn and moody when Heimdall approached, and was made more so when Heimdall said, “I thought I should inform you at once, my king.” 

 

***

 

There was no word that could accurately describe the fury Thor felt when he saw Loki, lying in Thor’s bed, with another man. A boy, really, green in life at nineteen hundred--younger even than Balthor. Thor knew him. Had seen him spar in the training yard with Thor’s own son, and had often reminded Thor of himself in youth. It was the twist of a blade in his gut when he saw Loki stroke spindly fingers down this youth’s--Bjorn’s, if Thor recalled correctly--tanned back. 

 

Those bewitching eyes met Thor’s over Bjorn’s shoulder, and Loki’s smile curled into a smile. One that welcomed chaos. Thor wanted to give him the storm. His fingers itched for his hammer, but this boy was innocent, and Thor well knew why Loki lured him here. He could have hidden himself from Heimdall, but he chose to have Thor see him. Wanted the violence that Thor would bring to this room and this boy. 

 

He would bring violence, but not to this youth. No, Thor would give punishment where punishment was due. 

 

“Bjorn,” he spoke--deep voice startling Bjorn who fumbled as he rolled away from Loki. “I will forgive this slight only this once, if I find you again--abed with my wife--I will not hesitate to remove your head from your body.” While Bjorn gathered his clothing, Thor told him, “Spread this promise for me. I know what my wife is, but I also know my people and those who would defy me to take my wife despite their fear of me would do well to remember that I am still king and I would not be out of place to harm those who would touch what is mine.” 

 

“Yes, sire,” Bjorn mumbled, moving from the room with haste. 

 

“You,” Thor rumbled, his form casting a long, wide shadow across the bed as he loomed above their bed, “You I would see punished.” 

 

***

 

Thor’s fingers bruised him, where they dug desperately into his pale flesh, and Loki relished the feel. His hands scraped at Thor’s forearms, and Thor gripped him tighter causing Loki to release a groan, “Yes.” His voice came as a hiss, “Yes, bring me chaos and cure me of this cursed boredom.” 

 

Then Thor’s brutality retracted and his eyes were full of a storm while he spoke with a low tone, “You’d have me harm you because you are bored?” 

 

“I’d do a great many things to cure my boredom, Thor. Rolling around with a young Aesir to get a rise out of you is probably one of my more tame schemes.” He could see Thor could not argue against that point, but even still Thor was angry. 

 

“You made a mockery of me in my bed, Loki,” his voice was low, dangerous, and Loki welcomed the promise of that whisper. “I could have killed him.” 

 

“That would have been marvelous,” Loki purred in response. 

 

“Would that please you, Loki,” Thor rumbled, “Would it put you silent and content for me to kill every man who’d touch you, look upon, conjure lusting thoughts about you?” 

 

“I would find contentment in being more than a thing to be looked upon and fucked.” Loki’s hiss was full of venom and he crowded into Thor’s space, “I was raised alongside you, I remember the weight of duties, I know your burdens. While you might be more adept in brutality I am more adept in matters of the mind.” Loki’s hands moved to Thor’s trousers, opening them so that he’d have access and his smile was almost cruel when he wrapped his long fingers around Thor’s half-hard flesh. “I am not docile, nor am I weak, Thor. I could command armies to their feet with my might. And you, dear brother, turned lover, are not feeble minded--I would never say that of you. However, I would say that we are built for different sects of ruling.” With a harsh tug on Thor he whispered, against Thor’s chapped, parted lips, “You for leading and war, me for matters of state.” 

 

“You want more power,” Thor rasped, and Loki’s smile was all teeth. 

 

“I want to be your equal.” 

 

***

 

“Let me fix that,” Loki admonished when Balthor began straightening his newly acquired helmet. It was an ode to both Thor and Loki, with elaborate wings and small horns; as he adjusted the metal upon his son’s head Loki smiled. In the mirror Balthor was looking rather uncomfortable; nothing close to the smug brat Thor was when he was about to have his ruined coronation. Instead of the confident smirk Thor favored, Balthor seemed anxious and Loki smoothed a hand over his son’s shoulder. “There’s no possibility of you becoming the failure of your predecessors. Odin left Asgard to her ruin and Thor left her for a mortal, then returned with the bastard of Asgard’s chaos and married that chaos to her.” 

 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better,” Balthor appeared incredulous, and Loki laughed in response. 

 

“It was intended to make you laugh,” Loki waved dismissively, and had his attention stolen when a servant escorted Hilde into the room. She was a small child, short and slim with hair the color of night and eyes as blue as her brother’s and father’s. Beyond the eyes, Hilde was all Loki, even her smiles were full of his mischief. Less sinister, by far, but Hilde took delight in games. Thor often whispered that he hoped she never grew to love chaos, and would hiss damnations against Loki when he said there would be hell to pay if she delighted in evils. 

 

“Mother,” she said in her sweet tone as she glided up to the spot where Loki stood, “I came to see Balthor in his ceremonial clothes.” 

 

Balthor loved her--not in the way that Thor had loved Loki, no, they would never be so treacherous, but Balthor loved Hilde in the way Loki imagined Baldr might have loved him had he lived long enough to know Loki. “How do I look, young princess?” Balthor inquired of her as he stood, throwing his broad arms wide so that she might see all of his finery. 

 

“Wonderful,” Hilde determined before she ran at her brother and demanded he lift her into his arms. Balthor did so, and graciously accepted the hug she offered as she wrapped her small arms around his neck. “Are you going to marry now?” Hilde’s voice was full of worry, “Who will play with me if you marry?” 

 

“You have friends,” Balthor placated, and it sounded to Loki as if they had had this conversation many times before--which was odd, he thought he knew all the worries his children shared. “And I am not going to marry just yet. I have to find a maiden who will have me and whom I will love until the world returns to nothing.” 

 

“Astrid loves you and would have you for a husband,” Hilde muttered resentfully, “Then I would have no brothers left to play with.” 

 

“I am your only brother,” Balthor said with a confused wrinkle of his brow, “What other brother has abandoned you?” 

 

“I don’t have any other brothers and that is the problem,” she pouted. 

 

***

 

Thor would not crown Balthor king just yet. This celebration was to be his crowning as prince, a right that was long overdue in Thor’s and most of the people’s minds. Balthor’s hall had been newly completed, and Thor could easily recall the way Balthor had stared upon the construction in awe as Thor had shown him around, along with Loki, Hilde, and Thor’s parents. He’d gestured at the tall windows while his voice bounced off the pillars as he spoke, “And now, son, you are a true Prince of Asgard.” 

 

Balthor had not said anything then, and he remained silent now as Thor asked him, in the presence of Asgard’s people, if he would swear fealty to this realm and the protection of all the others. 

 

“I swear,” Balthor bowed his head, voice quiet but full of conviction. 

 

“Then I, Thor, King of Asgard, protector of the nine realms crown you Balthor Thorson, my firstborn son, Prince of Asgard.” 

 

Thor smiled wide as the hall erupted with cheers. 

 

***

 

The drinks and food were plentiful as was the laughter, but Thor found Loki appearing drawn as he sat off to the sides. Watching out the tall windows, in the corridor, just beyond the banquet hall. Hilde was giggling like mad as she danced with other girls her age and she shouted for her father’s attention, so Thor watched her, his eyes abandoning Loki in favor of making his daughter smile wider. Sif took a seat beside him and her voice was warm when she said, “Once upon a lifetime ago, Thor, I’d have imagined that this would be our celebration, for our son, and that would be our daughter dancing in delight with the other girls of the realm.” 

 

With a bemused smile Thor leaned back against his seat, his goblet of mead held loosely in his hand, and said, “And now, my good lady, Sif, how does the reality treat you?” 

 

Her pale eyes found Fandral across the room, where he stood regaling his own daughters’ friends with tales of giant fire monsters and a queen he watched end them, and Thor saw the way her soft mouth tilted up at the corners in a private smile. He didn’t need to hear her say that she was more than fine with the outcome, Thor could well see that Sif had found the happiness she’d long deserved. “Reality is more pleasing than the fantasy,” she revealed, at last, and then to Thor inquired, “And for you, my king? How does reality treat you?” 

 

Thor found his son, dancing with a lovely black haired maiden--Rania, granddaughter to Lady Sigyn--and he saw the way Balthor appeared captivated by her gentle laughter. Thor felt gladness at the sight and his joy grew when he found his daughter doing tricks--Loki’s tricks--to the immense delight of the gathered watching. Volstagg and his own children begging her to do more when she took an exaggerated bow. Then he sought Loki, and saw that he was no longer perched upon the railing in the corridor just beyond the hall. “I...” he trailed off, having intended to tell Sif that he was content, truly, and then Loki was Loki--worrying Thor with his silent disappearance. 

 

“Go,” Sif spoke with a fond smile on her lips, “I can well tell that you are pleased with what you have, and I am glad.” Then with a tilt of her head she indicated the hall, “I can tell that he is happy, too, and for that I am also glad.” That surprised Thor and Sif laughed, “Don’t look so shocked. I did keep his secret once, long ago.” Then with a gesture around them she added, “Even now, the people are beginning to grudgingly accept what Loki has done for us all. So, go, find him and be at peace.” 

 

***

 

Thor found Loki relatively fast. He was perched on the low bench built into the wall near Thor’s window, a robe covering him with his bare feet poking out at the bottom. It was as vulnerable and naked as Thor ever saw Loki outside of sex. Usually he was awake before Thor and dressed from head to toe without a whisper of skin exposed. Not wanting to startle him, Thor said, “Loki, are you well?” 

 

“My son will be a king,” he mused, a note of irony to his tone. “I suppose I am a bit envious,” he confessed. 

 

“You might as well be a king, Loki, you rule beside me as my equal.” 

 

Loki chuckled, his gaze flitting to Thor as he allowed his robe to fall off his bony shoulder, and his voice was a sweet whisper as he spoke. “Am I your equal?” 

 

“Aye,” Thor’s response was just as quiet. 

 

Another laugh tumbled from Loki’s mouth, and he turned toward Thor, allowing his robe to slip further. “That’s all I ever wanted,” Loki mused and Thor knew. Loki had told him often enough through their centuries together. Thor still didn’t quite believe him, but he wanted to when he stepped closer. Loki’s smile was strange, distant and full of regret--it threw Thor off balance. Loki was a creature who didn’t know regret. He must’ve said this aloud for Loki replied with a cackle, “I am a creature with many hidden secrets, Thor. Regret is one of them.” 

 

“And what do you regret?” Thor’s callouses caught against the silken strands of Loki’s long hair. Loki bit at his palm, his eyes sparkling in the low light given off by the moon. 

 

“Those are secrets saved for another day, my king. Regrets are things good men share, and I have never been good,” as Loki stood, exposing himself fully to Thor’s gaze Thor thought he knew Loki’s regret. His Loki was surprisingly honest when he was trying his hardest to spin half truths. Loki wanted to be good. Wanted to be normal and loved; Thor found little hilarity in the irony that of all the people Loki was the only one Father and Mother and Thor loved regardless of his sins. 

 

“I love you,” Thor said as he held fast to Loki’s sharp jaw, “Never doubt my love for you.”

 

“In all my centuries I have never doubted your love nor your loyalties, brother.”

 

***

 

There would be more children. Hilde saw to that with her pleading eyes and guilting words. Loki found it amusing how easily she twisted Thor around her finger. Loki’s apple didn’t fall far from the tree, it seemed. Though, even with all her pleading, she never got the sister she wanted. Four more golden haired brothers who would grow to be as broad and good as their eldest son. When she begged them to try again Loki smashed the idea into submission, “Nay, child, away with your pestering. I am not a breeding mare and I will fill my womb no longer.” 

 

“I thought birth was beautiful,” she spoke in that haughty was that was all Loki and he hated her as much as he loved her in that moment. 

 

“If it’s so beautiful you should do it,” he hissed and Thor was not pleased with that suggestion. 

 

“Loki,” he growled, but Loki ignored him in favor of putting the latest Thorson--Sigvard--to his aching chest. Thor turned his eyes to their daughter--their lovely, wonderful daughter--and said, “Sweet one, you mustn’t make children just because you want to play with their hair.” 

 

Hilde gave him a withering look, “Unless I can birth Yisreal’s children I don’t want to have any.” 

 

Thor was murderous when he spoke. “I love Fandral, he is like a brother to me, but if his son so much as breathes near you wrong I will undo the boy from existence.” 

 

With a laugh Hilde said, “Father, Yisreal is eighteen hundred, he is no boy just as I am no girl. I am of marrying age now, you know.” 

 

“Balthor waited until he was in his late twenties to marry,” Thor tried and Loki scoffed in amusement when Hilde hissed about how Thor was an idiot. Frigga shook her head, amused as well, when Hilde stomped from the room. “Was it something I said?” 

 

“You could’ve looked at her and she would stomp angrily from the room,” Frigga said with a mild tone, as she accepted a flower from Thor and Loki’s second youngest child--Eric. “She’s at the age where she will want to find love and settle down. She sees the both of you, her brother and Rania, and her grandfather and I. Not to mention the others you keep company with, my son, she will want that for herself.” 

 

“I am not ready for that,” Thor admitted, and Loki thought him foolish. 

 

“What parent is,” Frigga said with a soft expression, “You were well beyond boyhood when you married, and I was still unprepared.” She gestured to Eric and the baby at Loki’s breast, “I see you both now with your children and your years of marriage and I still remember you as the babes that I held at my breast and kissed hurts silent when you cried.” 

 

***

 

Loki brought chaos to Thor once more when he tried to deny Hilde his blessing for her to marry. He was still in a rage over finding her in bed with her beloved Yisreal, and it had been all Loki could do to keep Thor from dropping his hammer upon the boy. Now he had his war with Loki, as they had many times through these long years of marriage, but this was the worst it’d been since before Hilde’s birth. 

 

There was a large chunk of Thor’s hall in ruins when he rushed to find the source of the explosive sound that rattled his chamber and roused him from sleep. What he found when he rushed to the corridor was a large gaping hole in the wall and a row of felled marble pillars. Loki stood in the destruction; as calm as the eye of a storm while dust settled around him. 

 

“Loki,” Thor demanded, his tone a touch hysterical. 

 

“You made my daughter cry.” 

 

“She’s my daughter, too,” Thor reminded him as he summoned his hammer, and Loki sneered as he called his seidr to his palms. 

 

“When you hurt her she is all mine,” Loki screamed, his fury and destruction calling to a horde of guards and shifting onlookers. “That boy did her no more harm than she asked him to bring her.” 

 

Thor snarled, “I am king and I will say when she is of an age to be wed and I will say when she is of an age to lie with a man and she is neither of those things, Loki!” 

 

“Am I not your equal, Thor? Does my word hold less authority than yours,” he demanded as Thor’s storm whipped about them. 

 

“In this matter I am the law, Loki and I will not yield!”  

 

“So be it,” Loki snarled, “There can only be the war, husband.” And the way he spit that word--full of venom made Thor all the more angry. 

 

***

 

Finally their battle ended, as many had since they wed, with snarling kisses that were too full of teeth to be pleasing. And, as he had since they wed, Loki was able to make Thor bend to his will with fury and sex. 

 

“Do you yield,” Loki asked as he pressed Thor back against the small sofa in their chambers. 

 

“Never,” Thor growled, and Loki bit into his skin in retaliation. “You’ll have me marry my daughter to an oaf.” 

 

“No more an oaf than you were at such an age,” Loki snarled, his hands harsh in the strands of Thor’s hair. 

 

“I never would have touched such a maiden-,” Loki cut off whatever drivel he might have spoken. 

 

“You lie!” A laugh tumbled from Loki’s throat, “You lie,” then softly, against Thor’s beard, he whispered, “You had Sif. Born of noble blood and as fine a woman as Hilde; you took her maidenhead and never took her hand.” A gentle kiss he placed upon the rough curve of Thor’s cheek, “From where I stand, Odinson, Yisreal is a finer man than you in that regard.” 

 

With another rumbling growl Thor put him to the floor, on his back, and whispered, “For that, Loki, you will pay.” 

 

***

 

Loki’s hands played across the expanse of Thor’s skin--paying particular attention to certain scars, at times, while Loki asked how each mark came to be. 

 

“Hunt gone awry,” Thor said with a laugh when Loki touched one on his forearm, “Fandral got into a bit of trouble--a merchant accused him of knowing his daughter carnally, and I stuck out my arm to save him from a sword to the eye.” Those were the days before Mjolnir, even, and Thor had to fight every man with his bare hands and sword. 

 

Loki narrowed his eyes, but said nothing as he moved his fingers to a short thin scar on Thor’s stomach. His fingers paused there and traced the raised white flesh--Thor didn’t have to tell Loki what made that mark. He could see that Loki well remembered. Even if centuries had passed there was still that linger of strife that had existed between them. Some days it still warred, and they knew the strife as intimately as they had in those long ago early years.  

 

“Come,” he said when Loki’s gaze had grown clouded with wrongs that couldn’t be made rights, “Show me how a warrior rides a steed.” 

 

Loki shoved him, a sneer upon his face, his distance forgotten,“You are a filthy fool, and I shall never allow you to take me that way again.” Loki swore that every time, and yet--most evenings--it was he who clambered over Thor’s lap to seek his own pleasures.

 

Thor cupped his ass, before he moved his hands to grip Loki’s hips, “Little liesmith,” his voice a whisper of worship as he spoke, “Your body betrays you--don’t you see the way it aches to feel me?” 

 

Loki sniffed at him, but even so he allowed himself to be moved over Thor’s lap. Had he wanted Loki could use his tricks to get his way, and it always sent a thrill through Thor when Loki allowed himself to be handled like a fragile being. Thor well knew what power surged through Loki--great hate, great love, great passion--and it would consume the worlds if Loki so desired. Yet, he allowed Thor the power, allowed him to work him into a frenzy, and allowed Thor to wring pleasure from him. Pleasures stealing the energies that would be wars instead if Loki were not sated. 

 

This was the only war between them now. A war they both welcomed and allowed to ruin them. Their obsessions were not with glory nor power, now, but with each other. The people whispered of it creating peace, but Thor and Loki well knew there was no peace here. If one should go the balance would be ruined and their violence would spread, but here, in this chamber, they could release their rages. Burning them into an oblivion that they rose anew from each dusk and every dawn. 

 

A torrential sea and a sailor who refused to be bested by dark waters. Perhaps one day they would write songs, about the warrior king and his evil queen. 

[Don't forget to leave clubs14 (emc14 on lj) some love](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5178881)

**Author's Note:**

> Again I cannot thank my artists enough! They are fantastic and be sure to check them out. 
> 
> Cover art is stormbrite
> 
> and 
> 
> The final picture is emc14

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for Marvel Bigbang - 'Love and horror are in my blood'](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5111432) by [stormbrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormbrite/pseuds/stormbrite)




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